New Kid, Old Gods
by PenHolmes
Summary: There's something strange going on with "the new kid", something much more sinister than his uncanny ability to make friends on any social network, and it's up to Mysterion to find out the truth. Warnings: Stick of Truth and Coon Saga spoilers.
1. Nazi Zombie Princess Kenny, Defeated

_Stick of Truth Ending Spoilers!_

I had this passing thought that quickly grew into a full on idea, and decided to play around with it a bit. I'm not sure whether to count the new kid as an OC or not, since he's both canon and fanon, so I decided to simply leave that definition up to you guys. I'm not sure if I'm going to include any sort of description of the new kid's appearance or not, considering his variable nature. We'll see how it goes.

I'm probably going to put up a series of mini-chapters. This tale features: Mysterion, Kenny, Cartman, Stan, Kyle, Butters, the new kid, and possibly Clyde. The list will likely get larger since this series has a myriad of interesting characters to work with.

Edit 4/28/2014: I've rewritten this chapter to flow better and hint more deeply at character motivations.

* * *

When I awoke, the first thing I could see was Butters Stotch, the Paladin, twiddling his fingers nervously. "Is she okay?"

My best friend Stan Marsh kneeled over my recumbent form, checking my pulse and breathing, his face filled with anger and worry. "Yeah, he's alive again. I guess Douchebag canceled out whatever that goo stuff was, thank God."

Butters sighed in relief. "Okay that's good. This means we've just earned a happy ending. Wait- oh _hamburgers_, look at the time. My dad's gonna kill me. Guys? Princess Kenny's back to normal and we have the stick. Can I go home now before I get grounded? Fellas?" Stan turned around and waved his sword at the naive blond. "Shut up you little pussy! Go home already!"

If I didn't know better, it almost seemed as though Butters was going to defend himself. His brows furrowed and he lifted a pointed finger, but then he just hobbled off with a sad look in his eyes.

I let out a little groan. "What am I lying on? It's so soft."

Kyle Broflovski, the Elf King and my other best friend, walked up to me hand in hand with his little brother, the Pirate King Ike. "You're lying on _Cartman_," he stated, matter-of-fact. This new information encouraged me to sit up quickly, and both of my best friends helped me to my feet. I turned around to face Eric Cartman's motionless body, only minimally concerned. He wasn't my friend by choice and I would never be lucky enough to lose him.

Just as we were going to give in to our moralities and check on dickface, he coughed and sat up, readjusting his outfit and brushing himself off. "It worked! Princess Kenny's back to normal. And it's all thanks to the Great Wizard King, you guys. I saved the day for real!"

I could see Kyle's poor brain thinking through recent events, and in utter confusion and dismay, he submitted. "Yeah, and this time you didn't even cause what happened in the first place. You really, honestly saved the day... _from Kenny_."

All three turned their attentions to me, angry and betrayed. Of course though, Eric was merely hiding a shitfaced grin. "That's why I say never trust a vagina, even if it's a dick."

I glowered at the cockfucker. "It's that kind of sexist bullshit that turned me against you in the first place!"

Stan crossed his arms, leaning on his sword. "Dude, seriously, that doesn't justify you betraying us. Cartman's an asshole to everyone and you don't see us turning into Nazi Zombies."

Stan's platonic life partner Kyle agreed. "Yeah, what the hell came over you Kenny?! Drinking that goo?! What were you thinking, doing something so dangerous?! Everyone could have died! What if you didn't come back?"

Cartman put his hands on his hips, mocking anger and concern. "Yeah _Kenny_, you could have killed us if it weren't for me, for seriously! This was supposed to be a game, but you took it way too far!"

"_I_ took it too far?" I rudely shrugged and rolled my eyes, still feeling a sense of justified rebellion bubbling up inside of me. "I guess I was just _PMSing_, or maybe it's been too long since my snatch has been pounded," I replied in the most sophisticated girl voice I could muster, dusting off my dress.

The boys, even Eric Cartman, all dropped their jaws on the floor. "_I knew it!_" the buttmunch cried, pointing an accusatory sausage finger in my direction. "Girls are always obsessed with their va-jay-jays and if boys don't satisfy them they PMS! Penis Man-hating Psycho-bitches! Or feminists, for short. _Kenny_, all this acting like a girl has poisoned your mind!"

"Yes, King _Eric_, you're exactly right," I replied with false sweetness and then swept an angry glance towards the new kid, the boy who'd just saved the entire town from me. "And considering this, that makes my actions entirely _your_ fault, _Douchebag_!" He simply watched on with that vacant yet somehow appealing stare.

I pointed my delicately painted finger at him. "You were supposed to woo me Douchebag! But you didn't and then I got _so _PMSy that I nearly destroyed the entire world! _GOD!_ What's a girl gotta do to get some goddamn poontang around here!?"

Everyone looked from the new kid to me questioningly, still completely flabbergasted. And yet, the new kid hadn't responded with so much as a raised eyebrow. _Something's seriously wrong with him. Well, of course something's wrong with him; he moved to South Park. I__t seems Cartman did something right when he dubbed this kid 'Douchebag'. His lack of emotion is__ really starting to get on my nerves. __Even Craig would have at least flipped me off for this._

Despite the new kid's lack of response, my diversion still worked. It gave me the chance to escape Clyde Donovan's impressive tree house and avoid answering to my friends, at least for a little while longer. Seriously though, how was that tree house much nicer than my actual house? Fucking Clyde.

I readjusted my golden locks self consciously, contemplating my strange behavior as I walked home. _What was I thinking indeed Kyle? I was playing a game, and then suddenly I was actually angry at everyone, like as if I'd been betrayed. But why? What gave me the right to feel that way? _

_I'm the one who betrayed everyone. They could have died. I should have known that stuff would turn me into an invincible monster, considering I already am one. If it weren't for Douchebag and Cartman, I might have lost everyone I cared about.  
_

_Yet I'm still pissed off and I don't know why.  
_


	2. Everything's Always Normal the Next Day

So, I find myself a little torn between writing Kenny like an intellectual and making the story legible or writing like a fourth grader and making the story more believable. I'll try to lay off the really big words and you guys try to suspend your disbelief, okay?

* * *

The next morning I forced myself out of bed and zipped up my parka. My family didn't have breakfast as usual and I walked Karen to her stop, which was a little ways from mine. Actually I just had a habit of walking to see my friends at their stop. Well, my friends and Cartman.

On the way over I pondered whether or not I'd see the new kid at our stop too from now on. Butters, being Cartman and Douchebag's neighbor, was probably supposed to go to our stop too, but usually he didn't. His psychotic overbearing parents probably drove him to school or something. I kinda felt bad for Butters, honestly. His parents were actually worse than mine.

I got close enough to see the stop and counted. One, two... only three. Unless Cartman counted as two people.

"Hey Kenny!" Stan greeted with a smile. I smiled back and stood beside Cartman, who farted so obnoxiously I think I heard a dog howl in the distance. He thought it was funny, especially when the rest of us backed away while covering our noses.

"Weak, fatass!" Kyle exclaimed, his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets, just like his mom's tend to. Cartman stopped giggling and grimaced at Kyle. "Ey! I'm not fat, I'm just big boned!"

Stan waved his hands in front of the smelly fat kid, half coughing and half retching. "Did your mom take you to Taco Land again?"

Cartman smiled proudly. "Yep! And I bet you're all jealous!"

I couldn't help but laugh so hard I fell to the ground. Stan caught on and nearly lost his breakfast. "EW Kenny! That's disgusting!"

Cartman's glare switched over to Stan and I. "Kenny! Nothing about my mom treating me to Taco Land is funny! If you keep laughing I'll kick you square in th' nuts!" I feigned innocence. "I don't know what the fuck he's talking about dude. Nothing about your mom taking you to Taco Land is funny!" With that, I cried laughing, even when Cartman tried to make good on his promise.

When the time came we hopped onto the bus. The school had miraculously returned to normal. There was no sign of our previous adventure, well except for the fact that Timmy wasn't the only one in a wheelchair anymore. Clyde rolled up to us, visibly seething at Cartman. His right arm and both legs were wrapped up in casts.

Cartman didn't even seem to notice. "Hey Clyde! Dude, what happened?" He chuckled.

"You happened Cartman you fucking jerkwad! Don't ever talk to me again or my dad's gonna kick your fucking ass!" With that, Clyde slowly wheeled toward class, taking his bitchy attitude with him. "Wow. Just, wow. What's his problem?" Cartman wondered. I shrugged, "I dunno."

The bell rang and we flooded into our seats. I looked around for the new kid, but he was nowhere in sight. It seemed Mr. Garrison had expected him as well, as he took a quick look out into the halls before shrugging and closing the door.

He walked up to the teacher's desk and began class. "Hello children! So it seems the school is now piss broke and we can't afford anything, not even goddamn coffee for the faculty lounge. Do you know the gravity of this? We teachers NEED our coffee, and because of you, we're not getting it. You little hellions thought it would be so cool to destroy the school, but now you're all going to pay."

Everyone groaned before even knowing what he meant. We all knew this wasn't good.

Mr. Garrison continued with an evil scowl. "We're holding a massive bake sale in order to make up for the funds and you little fuckers are going to go from door to door selling those baked goods until the school's debt is paid off!"

Cartman sniffed and leaned backward in his chair with a cocky smile. "No way I'm going door to door."

Mr. Garrison ignored fatboy's dissent and continued. Not only that, but the kid who sells the least gets detention for a month AND has to write an essay about the importance of school!"

"What? Aww!" I could hear Stan over the group, then Cartman. "You can't do this! That's slave labor! I'll sue you!"

The teacher rolled his eyes as he placed his hands on his hips. "Shut up Eric. The parents are all behind this, including your mother. Hell, Kyle's mom even came up with the idea, so there." Kyle sank in his seat, his cheeks burning.

"Fuck you Kyle and fuck your fat fucking JEW MOM!" Cartman spewed.

"ERIC!"

Kyle quickly forgot his embarrassment and stood up out of his seat, balling his hands into fists. "Suck my dick fatass! If you hadn't been so prejudiced against the Jewish faith in the first place the school would have been spared!"

"KYLE!"

Eric snorted in disbelief, standing up as well and rolling up his sleeves. "Don't lie to me Jew boy! The only reason it wasn't you who hid the stick is because Clyde thought of it first!"

"ERIC CARTMAN AND KYLE BROFLOVSKI! PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE, NOW!"

The argument went on and on, but I kind of zoned out at that point. I've gotten pretty good at ignoring arguments thanks in part to my home life.

I gazed at the spare desk and wondered why the new kid hadn't come in today. Not that he was missing anything really. I would have thought they moved away, but I passed his house on the way to the bus stop and it still seemed inhabited. _Maybe after school I should pay the new kid a visit..._

_Nah. Fuck the new kid._


	3. Doo Process

To those taking time to review: Thank you so much for your kind words guys! I really appreciate when you let me know your reactions!

Rambling you can totally skip: Y'know, I tend to identify with Kenny and Butters the most, considering I grew up poor and surrounded by adults whose sanity and capabilities were often questioned. I even had that friend with the parents who would ground them constantly for the most ridiculous reasons, but she was Wiccan. I also had a friend who was Jewish. But instead of a Christian friend my other pal was a Mormon whose parents kept trying to convert me from atheism. Huh, why doesn't South Park explore that Mormon kid further anyway? Or bring up a Wiccan family? Lotsa possibilities there.

Edit: There's a minor plot edit. Upon viewing this after getting some space from it, I'm realizing that Kenny was originally acting just a bit too out of character, and it was just not fitting. Here it's a lot more established and actually makes sense.

* * *

We were handed our stupid assignments in big cardboard boxes and it was made obvious that all we had to do was come up with the money. Mr. Garrison didn't really care how, as long as the kid with the least sales wasn't in his class. That's our teacher for you in a nutshell. Lazy asslicker.

Cartman seemed to have it in his head that his mother would buy everything for him so he wouldn't have to go from door to door and Stan and Kyle swore to work together until everything they had was sold, leaving me on my own, which I was fine with. Cartman's a butthole and Stan and Kyle might as well get married.

We only had a half day because apparently the cafeteria was still wrecked. Some douchebag destroyed one of the main ovens, so I heard. Personally, I tend to have a bit of a love hate relationship with half days. On the one hand, it got me away from some of the stupidest adults I know, but on the other, Karen and I wouldn't be guaranteed lunch.

Usually because of this, on half days she and I would go to our friends' houses. So at least I didn't have to worry about her. As for myself, however, I was kind of avoiding being around my friends since the day previous. My anger had subsided but was replaced by sheer embarrassment.

_When had I become the badguy? That was usually Cartman's job. And why was I so mad in the first place yesterday?_

I felt wrong, but I wasn't ready to apologize yet either. I was still mad. However, if I was going to get some lunch, I had to hang out with Stan and Kyle, and that meant I had to be ready to talk about what I did, because Kyle hates leaving things unsettled and Stan always needs to let out his feelings.

I spent the majority of class mulling this issue over in my head in between day dreams and doodles as Mr. Garrison described something about some TV show he'd recently watched and how it related to our futures or whatever.

Once the final bell rang, I hadn't made my final decision, but I did really have to pee. I quickly stopped in the boys room, hoping I'd have it all to myself, as it was usually desolate after school. No such luck, however.

"Lu lu lu I'm making a splish splash, doo doo poo doing some more- hee hee." Butters was singing in the stall again.

_God, he always makes me blush in embarrassment for him._ Whenever I see him I simultaneously want to hug and punch him. He's the only kid in class who probably has it worse than I do, barring Death's obsessive dicking around with me. He may have a nice place, food and warm, clean clothes, but his parents are fucking assholes. Mine are just drugged up all the time. At least they give a shit about my feelings.

Anyway, I peed as quietly as humanly possible because I didn't want to deal with him, but the goddamn curious little blond stopped his little song. "Hey, is that you Kenny?" _How the hell did he know?_ I gave in with a muffled sigh. "Yeah."

"Could ya pass me some toiletpaper buddy? I'm fresh out an' I'm kinda stuck in here," the other boy admitted, sounding pitiful.

"Oh, okay, one second," I uttered, kinda glad that was all he wanted to talk about.

"Thanks Kenny; you're a real pal. I'll uh just be waitin here. Lu lu lu, I'm makin turkey stew-"

I took a glance at the other stall's supply once I'd finished, but it was empty. "Uh, I don't see any." _Good thing I didn't need to go number 2._

I fiddled with the paper towel holder. _Nothing there either._ "Must be the budget, Butters. I think when we were playing stick of truth we kinda wrecked all the TP and even the PT."

"Oh no! What am I gonna do Kenny? I can't jus- I need to wipe my behind!" he cried. I grit my teeth and looked at my backpack, an idea forming in my head. I quickly slipped into the other stall and began to get dressed. Someone needed help, and I wasn't about to turn my back on anyone.

"Wh-what are you doing? Kenny, please don't leave me here!" Butters pleaded.

_I help those in need, even if it means..._

"Don't worry," I firmly pushed open the boys room exit, fully dressed as my secret alter ego, Mysterion. "I swear on my own grave; I will return!"

With that, I dashed towards the forbidden zone, the girls room.


	4. Small Favors

Grammar ramble: I use "Butters's" rather than "Butters'" because personally I find it more correct and less muddying. Either way is considered acceptable, especially in the past 20 years, so it's more personal preference than anything. So yeah, wanted to just let you know I'm aware of the debate. Feel free to point out any errors you spot. :)

Edit 4/29/2014: Reworked the plot.

* * *

I swore long ago I'd never again step foot in this evil place, but thanks to my pledge of honor, I had to break that promise.

It was a lot pinker than I remembered. A painting of ponies adorned the walls, which I found both adorable and terrifying. They were looking right at me, judging me. If only I were still playing Princess, this wouldn't be so awkward. I nearly walked right back out, but I imagined Butters's plight and stepped further down the rabbit hole.

Just my luck, it sounded empty. Even better, the first stall I checked had copious amounts of the stuff I needed. I gathered up an entire roll and began to head out when a voice from behind interrupted my thoughts. "Um, what are you doing?"

I jumped a bit, despite my usual nerves of steel, then collected myself before coolly turning to face my potential foe. "I'm just grabbing some toiletpaper for a friend," I growled as low pitched as my voicebox allowed.

Wendy Testaburger began to wash her hands, glaring at me from the mirror. "Okay, but that doesn't explain what you're doing in a super hero costume. Do you even go to this school?"

I stood stock still, continuing my disinterested gaze back at her. "I'm sorry to disturb you. I've got to go save my friend now." I rushed out as soon as she took her eyes off of me to grab a paper towel. I could hear her yelling, but she was too slow and I'd already made it to the sanctity of the boys room.

"Kenny? S'at you?" Butters inquired from the stall. I said nothing and merely handed his necessities to him from under the stall before making my escape out of the bathroom window.

There's nothing quite so odd as going around in costume at 11 in the morning. Oh, the looks it gets. You'd think after experiencing celebrities, monsters and aliens, a kid in costume wouldn't get so much attention, but you'd be wrong.

_Y'know, since I'm dressed I might as well do an update with the police station_, I figured. I wasn't ready to go see Stan and Kyle anyway.

That made me remember just how lucky I was that I could still talk to the police force, thanks to Kyle. He took the fall for me publicly without even being asked. He went to jail for me- er, well for Mysterion. I did end up getting him out by explaining to the police the truth behind what had occured, but there was no guarantee that would have worked.

I took the shortcut to the station using Stark Pond, and happily found no obstacles along the way. I came in through the back window and cleared my throat to get the attention of the inspector, who turned around, startled. "Oh, it's you Mysterion. Any updates for me?"

"Well, seems those 6th graders are selling cigarettes to the elementary school again. Also, the mayor paid kids to beat up homeless people," I offered. The redheaded detective rose a brow. "Oh yeah? Thanks for the heads up. I'll look into it."

Having completed my update, I headed out to the woods near the cemetery to change back into my civilian clothes in privacy. Every time I was near the church or its cemetery, it reminded me of all the times I had a grave out there. And yet none of them still existed. How twisted is that? It's like my life was just retconned over and over again.

"Please Death," I prayed quietly while I zipped my parka back up, "don't take me while I have all these stupid sweets in my backpack. I need them or I'll get in trouble." I couldn't even remember all the countless times I'd lost my homework thanks to dying, and no one remembered so everyone just assumed I was lazy, and again I felt pissed off.

"Or better yet, stop bugging me all the time, mother fucker!" I shouted to the sky, two middle fingers raised emphatically. "Make up your fucking mind and let me live or die in peace!"

A rustle in the bushes interrupted my train of thought and I turned to face it, my heart pounding. "Death?" Silence. "Fuck you!" I yelled before scurrying out of there as fast as my legs could carry me towards Stan and Kyle's houses.

_Lunch with Stan and Kyle I guess, then time to sell some of these stupid baked goods. They may even invite me to come with them. Maybe while I'm out there I should go warn the new kid about what he missed in class. _

_No, no. Fuck the new kid; he doesn't care about anything, so why should I?  
_


	5. Pimps Be Makin Some Motherfuckin Money

Glad there seems to be others who are bothered by "Butters'". Speaking of the golden haired little darling, guess who's narrating next?

* * *

Thank goodness I was saved from having to smell like doody on my way home. I would have gotten grounded again.

And yet, Kenny sure was acting funny, and when he handed me my saving grace, he was in his Mysterion costume. I didn't say nothing cause he might have gotten mighty sore at me, and that's the last thing I need.

Curiosity took over me at that point and after a little preparation I transformed into my dark alter-ego, Professor Chaos! I'm not proud of my secret, but the world must pay for its decadence and cruelty!

Oh uh, anyway, so I left the bathroom stall and much to my surprise, Wendy was standing in the doorway, screaming her head off. Maybe she was on her period or something because she screamed at me for no gosh darn reason! "Hasn't this school suffered enough from your shenanigans?!" she scolded.

I left not because I was scared of her, but because I realized Mysterion had jumped out of the window. Given my choices, I leapt out of the window as well, landing in a bush and chasing him, but keeping just enough distance to avoid being spotted. "What are you up to, Mysterion?" I mumbled as I spotted him going into the police station.

He left very soon after and ran into the woods. Then I accidentally saw him changing, but I closed my eyes. While I was giving him his privacy, he said some really weird stuff and then yelled at me. Sometimes I really wonder what's going on with Kenny.

Partially because he yelled at me and partially because following Mysterion counts as being evil but following Kenny is just creepy, I let him go. Instead, I decided to interrogate the police.

I busted in through the front door pointing my finger like it was a gun. "All right cops! You're gonna tell me what I want to know or- oh hey Sergeant Yates! How's your wife?"

The head of the police gave me the queerest look and called off his guys. "What do you want to know?" he asked, seeming a little unsure of himself. I'd lost track of thought for a moment, but then I remembered. "Oh, well Mysterion was just through here right? So what was it he wanted from you?"

The sergeant laughed at me. "You're out of your depth, you third rate villain. He was doing charity work." That surprised me, but only a little bit. Maybe he was selling baked goods to them? But why would he do it as Mysterion? That's just not his style. "Oh, well I'm doing charity work too, actually. I'm selling baked goods made by Mrs. Cartman!"

Suddenly a whole crowd of policemen began swarming me while holding up bills. "Mrs. Cartman? Get me one!" "I'll take ten!" "Twenty for me!"


	6. All We Need is Love

Well, this took a bit of a dark turn. But you know it won't get too macabre or anything.

* * *

"Wow, I can't believe I sold every last one! Thanks guys! I'll come back with more, okay? Sorry for the inconvenience, but I'll be right back! I promise!" The police waved me off like I was some sort of hero. Some of them were even crying in delight.

_Sometimes it's the simple things in life that really make a difference. Maybe being good has its good points. Thank God Mrs. Cartman baked for our class. Now that I think of it, no wonder Eric is so fat._

I pondered if I should wait until tomorrow. _No, a good businessman knows time is of the essence and to strike when the iron's hot! Let me pay Kenny back for his favor to me in the boys room. He probably still has some left, and it seems he didn't offer his to them while he was in there. Then, it musta been some other sort of charity I guess._

On the way towards Kenny's house, which was all the way on the other side of the tracks, no one beat me up because of the costume, which was good because I had a lot of cash on me. I passed my neighbor, King Douchebag, and wondered again why he wasn't in class. I couldn't show up the way I was, so I stopped at my house first and hid my money in my suppository box, changed into my normal clothes, then I headed to his door, just to check on him real quick.

I knocked as I hummed a little tune, but there was no answer so I just let myself in. His father was packing up a suitcase. "Oh, Butters. Sorry, I didn't hear you knock." I watched him in concern. "Are ya movin again already? Please don't take away my friend!"

His eyes glistened. "No, no Butters. We're not moving. Your friend has, well, he tried to kill himself." My eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets. "What?! No! Why'd he do such a thing?!" I secretly begged for this not to be my fault somehow, which was really selfish of me. It's just somehow everything's always my fault.

Douchebag's father shook his head as he wiped at tears. "I dunno. He won't talk to me. But maybe he'd talk to his friends." My eyes widened. "Yeah! Eric, Kyle, Stan and Kenny! He never really seemed to like Jimmy for some reason, probably because he made us go number two in our pants with a brown note."

My new neighbor was listening adamantly up until the part where I mentioned Jimmy. "Wait, what? Never mind. I'll take whoever you suggest to visit my little boy. Maybe one of you can get him to explain himself."

I called up Eric and I guess he heard a funny joke or something, because when I told him the horrible news he just laughed and laughed and hung up on me. "I guess he's busy."

Then, I called up Kyle. "Hey Kyle. You got a minute?"

"What is it Butters? Stan and I are really busy trying to sell these stupid sweets."

He already sounded irritated, so it made me a little nervous to have to tell him the bad news. "So it seems the new kid's in the hospital and he needs our help. His dad's gonna take anyone who wants to come visit an well I thought maybe he'd like ta see you."

I could hear him gasp in horror. "What? What happened?"

I looked down sadly, twiddling my fingers nervously as I held the cell up with my shoulder. "Well uh, it suh-seems he uh tried ta kill himself."

I could hear Kyle explain to Stan, who clearly reacted with "that's some fucked up shit!" Then Kyle returned to me. "You can count me and Stan in. We'll head right over to the new kid's house. Just wait for us, okay?"

Then, I called up Kenny, whom I can never hear over the phone too well, but I tried my best. "Kenny, the new kid's in the hospital! We're gonna go visit him so please get over to Douchebag's house!" I heard a positive sounding reply, I think, and then a click.

The new kid's dad gave me a questioning look. "Douchebag? Is that the name he told you to call him?"


	7. Why the Fuck, Douchebag?

We all stuffed ourselves into the back of the new kid's dad's car except for Butters, who had already been seated in the front. He looked like he'd been crying, no surprise there.

Kyle fastened his seat belt, his face grim. "I can't believe he would do something like this. It just- it doesn't seem like him. Sure, he's a little quiet, but suicide?"

Stan followed suit, sighing sadly. "I just don't get it. If he was so sad, we were his friends. Why wouldn't he just talk to us about it?"

_It kind of pisses me off, hearing about people who beg for death. But at the same time, I've lost sight of what a big deal it is since I've been there, done that, and I always come back. I've been to Heaven and Hell and both aren't too bad. Heaven is generally boring, but they've got great video games, and Hell, well it's way cooler than most people would have you believe. I mean, what kind of dickweed god would create Satan and Hell to torture everyone forever? He generally just wants the horrible people to stay out, and Satan's not about to go around punishing his own followers. Well, some of them he does, for sure. Even Satan has his limits. _

I was thinking about so much, but I just kept my mouth shut. I've tried many times before to explain my mysterious immortality, but it seems that part of my curse is being doomed to have to carry this burden of mine alone.

We rode in relative silence to Hells Pass Hospital and entered inside. We headed towards their small psychiatric ward, a place that seemed to make Stan quite uncomfortable. I squeezed his hand reassuringly and he offered me a hopeful smile.

Douchebag's room was a pretty standard one, except it had a reinforced glass wall and a camera, probably for observation purposes. He sat on the bed, unrestrained, his wrists bandaged up. He sported that dumb blank stare and a hospital gown with cartoon frogs on it as he watched us enter through the doorway. His mom stood up and greeted her husband with a long, tired hug.

We all gathered around the new kid, anxious to help. Butters started. "Hello neighbor. How're ya d-doin? Feelin any better li'l buddy?" Obviously, there was no reply, just an emotionless stare. Stan stood behind me, hiding his face.

Kyle angrily pointed a finger at the new kid. "Why would you go and do something so stupid? We're all your friends now and you shoulda just come ta us!" _Wow. The Jersey's poking out. New kid must have really gotten under Kyle's skin._

Just then, a doctor came into the room. "Listen, I'm sorry but we're going to have to limit guests to one at a time for now. We're worried his anxiety might spike and- well, yes, one at a time," he explained as he ushered everyone, even his parents, back out of the room. "So, who's going first?" he queried.

Each of us looked at one another, unsure of which order to go in. I backed up to cement my place in last, but Stan backed up behind me again, gazing at the floor and sighing anxiously. He never did too well with hospital visits.

The fearless Kyle stood in front, forcing himself to calm down. "I'll go first." Butters nodded. "I'll go second." Stan shook his head. "I dunno, I guess I'll go last."

I shook my head. "No, I'll go last. You're much closer to him than I am." Stan rubbed his hands together. "Okay. Third, and then you go, Kenny."

I looked off into the halls of the all too familiar hospital. "Okay."


	8. Silent Protagonist Limits Story Progress

We listened through the door, but there was no use. We could only see the conversation, not hear it. And it looked pretty one sided to me.

Kyle was gesticulating, that is, his arms were waving around a lot, and talking until his face grew red.

In order to pass the time, I inserted what I figured he must be saying for fun. _Douchebag, I can't believe you'd try to slice your wrists like some emo! I thought you were better than that! ... I thought you were cool. If you say something, I'll get my mom to have you over for dinner! She cooks damn good! But since we're Jewish it has to be Kosher. Well, that's more of a guideline than a rule._

I relaxed and let out a small smile behind my hood. I hadn't realized how tense I'd gotten until I let off a bit of steam with my little game.

Kyle shuffled out, defeated and huffy. "He won't talk to me. Best of luck Butters. I hope you do better." The blond boy nodded, gaining a fearful glint in his eyes. "Yeah, okay," he replied as he headed into the room cautiously. His approach seemed much more soft, like a mother.

I could only imagine what he was saying as Douchebag watched him with that same blank look he gave Kyle. _Now Douchebag, you can't go around hurting yourself like that. Tell Butters why you did it and maybe we can work a way through this together. Y'know, sometimes I get really sad, so sad I wish I didn't exist, but then I just remind myself that people love me and even if they didn't, I love me and that's gotta count for something._

Actually, that was probably really accurate. It scared me a little how well I could imagine what he might have been saying.

Butters came out, eyes on the floor in shame. "H-he won't talk to me either, but I gave him some words of encouragement and I hope it helps. Stan, I'm sure you can do it."

Stan shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at the floor. "I don't know what to say to him. He probably won't even talk to me." This prompted the mom to interject. "Please, just try. We don't know what else to do to get through to our boy. Please." Stan's good nature took over and he nodded, seeming slightly more encouraged. "Okay, I'll try, but I can't promise I'll do any better."

Butters smiled brightly, "you can do it!" he cheered as Stan passed him to go into the room.

The dude pretty much just stood there, his back entirely to us. The new kid was watching him too, but I couldn't even tell if Stan was talking to him or not. I imagined that Stan was probably on the verge of tears and too embarrassed to talk or take his leave, and now two awkwardly quiet kids were just standing there.

Funny enough, that was pretty much exactly what happened. Two out of three made me wonder if Kyle's insert actually was accurate. That would have been hilarious. After what felt like an eternity, Stan finally got the courage to leave the room and face us, his eyes glazed with tears. "I'm sorry, I couldn't. I just, I didn't know what to say to him. I didn't know."

Kyle put a hand on Stan's shoulder, "it's okay Stan. Nobody really knows what to say in a situation like this. You were there for him and that's what counts."

Stan wiped away a tear, looking like he was starting to lose it. "No, it's not okay. He won't talk to me and what if we never find out why and he actually..." The two best friends hugged and I narrowly avoided rolling my eyes in frustration. _Who's this new kid to make Stan cry like that? I actually have died in front of him and he didn't usually cry about it. Fuck the new kid._

And yet it was finally my turn to approach him, and there was no way out of it at this point without looking like a total Eric Cartman. I took a deep breath and grit my teeth as I prepared to save Douchebag... from himself. It was a task that was sure to be no easy feat.


	9. Well, That was Unexpected

I'm giving you a bit of intrigue. Are you getting a raging clue right now?

* * *

I stuffed my gloved hands into my pockets and put on a face of disapproval before I opened the door and went inside.

The new kid looked over at me with that same dumb stare he gave everyone else. As soon as the door closed behind me, I approached him. "Seriously, what's your fucking problem Douchebag?" The boy's head tilted slightly and he blinked at me.

I pulled my hands back out of my pockets and pointed at his wrists. "Was that even an actual attempt? Or are you just trying to get sympathy? Either way I think it's pretty fucking weak." He tilted his head a little further, concentrating on me a little more intensely than I originally thought he was capable.

I wasn't sure, but maybe I was getting through to him. "Suicide's not the answer you fucking twat waffle. It just causes more problems! And dying hurts! Why the fuck would you ever want to die?! And fuck you for making Stan cry! You fucking asshole!"

I allowed a bit of a silence to occur after my outburst. Of course, the new kid again did not react.

_No wait. Is he shaking his head?_

I watched as Douchebag opened his mouth as if to speak, but then he closed it again. I grit my teeth, putting my hands on my hips. "Well, spit it out!"

"You were killed," he stated clearly. That voice, really not what I'd expected. I half expected something soft and feathery, but his voice was actually pretty deep for a fourth grader. Deep and clear.

I fumbled for words, totally unprepared. "Uh, what?"

He shook his head a little more clearly this time, but did not repeat himself. I jumped onto the bed and grabbed his arm. "No, don't you fucking dare go back into mute mode! What do you mean I was killed? When I was a zombie? Is that what you mean?" His eyes widened in surprise, but he still was only shaking his head at me, so I began to shake him angrily by the shoulders. "TALK! EXPLAIN! TELL ME WHY YOU FUCKING SAID THAT!"

Before I knew what'd happened, a whole team of doctors the size of football players pulled me off of the new kid and dog piled on top of me. "Restrain him!"

I couldn't breathe and no matter how much I struggled, I couldn't move. You'd think dying for the millionth time would feel relatively mundane, but it never is. When you feel death approach, the panic just happens. Even though I know I'll come back, it still freaks me out.

As I was smothered and crushed to death, I could vaguely hear Kyle and Stan's tagline routine before my soul left my body, again. No tears, just "Oh my GOD! You killed Kenny!" "You bastards!"

_Fuck the new kid, that fucking cocksucker!_


	10. Nobody Ever Remembers

Kenny's POV was chosen for several reasons. Kenny's the quietest of the four boys, but is by no means silent or boring. Plus, when it's his POV, we can comprehend what he's saying. Also, he and the new kid are the two main focuses of this story. Butters was chosen for a few chapters mostly because I thought it would be less boring than what Kenny was up to at the time.

Yup, things are in fact, starting to get more interesting.

* * *

My eyes flickered open once the pain was over and I was greeted by the familiar cracked ceiling of my bedroom. I sat up in the moonlight of my window, feeling well rested, and looked over at my alarm clock.

_10pm. Well, there goes the rest of my day._

I didn't remember any layover time in one of the other dimensions, so I figured it was probably still the same day that I died. And no, that never gets any less weird to have to figure out.

I checked to see what I was wearing this time. Orange parka, zipped up. Old gloves. Dirty, holier than the pope shoes. Yeah, the usual.

I could hear my mom and dad fighting in the other room, screaming obscenities at one another about the kids, the rent, so on and so forth. My guess is they were out of pot and instead were on something worse. My sister was probably using the headphones and MP3 player I got her for Christmas, sleeping soundly, and my brother was probably at a friend's house, stoned or drunk or whatever, because I didn't hear him yelling at our parents to shut up.

My thoughts then drifted to my last memories before I died. Douchebag's words echoed in my mind, pissing me off to no end.

_"You were killed."  
_

_What the hell did he mean by that?! Yes, of course I was killed. Which time are you referring to? Do you actually remember the other times I died in front of you? Like when that wolf ripped me apart? Or when that snake gave me Dire AIDS? And if so, why didn't you even react?! Or did you mean like, in game? Or did you mean my zombie was killed? Why are you telling me this? Is my dying making you attempt suicide? That's fucking retarded! It hurts my head! I hate when people aren't fucking clear! Why do I even like this guy on facebook!? He's such a douche!  
_

It was probably the fates just messing with me, but I had to be sure. I had to know the truth behind that statement, behind Douchebag's suicide attempt. I had to know if they were connected. And I had to beat the shit outta him if he was killing himself over me dying, because that would be so fucking stupid.

There was some slim chance, some tiny glimmer of hope that the new kid could lead me to the truth. _What is my connection to the Old Gods? What and who exactly am I?_

I changed into my costume and headed out through the window into the moonlit darkness. If this kid wasn't going to talk to Kenny, he was definitely going to talk to Mysterion.


	11. Escape the Madhouse

Author talks from the heart (you can totally skip it): Again, thanks guys for your encouraging words. I feel like this story is really helping me stretch my creative muscles while I'm writing the last chapter of my novel. The short chapters are a relief in comparison and I'm getting actual feedback and encouragement. Once you've stared at an original piece of fiction for hundreds of hours, no matter how much you love it, you grow so sick of it, and writing for fun like this is reminding me why I write in the first place.

* * *

Hells Pass Hospital wasn't exactly known for its security, and getting past it was really simple. It's really sad how inept adults can be. The halls were mostly dim and quiet and the one time I was questioned I merely put on my cutest little voice and swore up and down that if I didn't find a bathroom, I'd pee my pants. Yeah, that actually worked.

As I sneaked my way into the mental health ward, I couldn't help the passing thought that perhaps my dead body was still at the morgue, and that if I could find it, perhaps I could show everyone that I was dead. But I knew this was a faulty line of thinking, false hope. My body wasn't in the morgue. It was as if my death was reversed, retconned every time. But perhaps I wasn't the only one aware of it this time. Perhaps I had some sort of audience, watching me die and actually remembering it happening.

I read the room door. _Same number, so this must be the one. Oh, so that's his name. Eh, I like Douchebag better._

The room was dark and the door was already open, so I made my way inside. Through the moonlight, I could see the kid's outline on the bed as I approached.

"New kid, I have a few-" I stopped in my tracks, my heart pounding. That wasn't the new kid; it was just a teddy bear. I wasn't the only one who found security a little too lax in this place it seemed.

My fingers trembled as I angrily ripped the sheet from the bed, sending the bear and a pillow flying. There was no sign of him. The toilet was in plain sight and there was no place to hide. His things were still there. I checked the number again to be sure I was in the right place. Yes. _Wait, where'd his name go?_

I did a double take and looked everywhere for his written name, but it was gone! And when I turned back around to continue investigating, the bear disappeared next. "I could have sworn it was- no." _This is impossible. Maybe I really am going crazy._ "It can't be. He was here!"

"Excuse me, little boy. Do you belong here?" I'd let down my guard, and now I was caught by an elderly woman. I didn't dare face away from the new kid's room though, just in case anything else were to disappear.

"I'm looking for a friend. The new kid in my fourth grade class was staying here," I honestly replied, shaken.

"There's been no fourth graders in the mental health wing today, little boy," she informed me.

It cut me to the bone. "How can that be? I remember visiting him and everything!" I snapped.

The elderly woman attempted to put a hand on my shoulder, but I took a few steps away from her. "I think you're confused young man," she gently assured, trying to calm me down. I bit my lip, trying my best not to freak out. I really felt like I was totally losing my grip on reality, and it sucked.

"Yeah, I musta dreamed it," I played along, trying to figure out a way past her, but she was blocking the doorway, trapping me inside. She folded her arms, and I couldn't tell if she was worried or mad at me in the dark.

"What's your name boy?" she asked.

_If she finds out who I am, I could get in a lot of trouble. Maybe suicide? That's an easy way out of this situation, coincidentally enough. _

I felt my costume for the gun I kept, but holstered instead was a water gun._ Seems someone replaced it. _

_Windows at Hells Pass are reinforced and don't open either, so that's out too._ I pondered several other methods, none of which would be quick and thorough enough, not that I wanted to die. Yeah, maybe I really was insane, preferring to die rather than get into big trouble.

"Your name," she demanded as she flicked the lights on, practically blinding me and probably also blinding her. I used the chance and attempted to run past, only for her to grab me by the back of my cape, holding me back.

As a last ditch effort I pulled out my smoke bombs and threw them at her feet, which surprised her enough to let me make my narrow escape.


	12. Breaking and Entering

More personal stuff you can skip: I've been trying so hard not to catch my roomie's cold, but now I have. I've got this massive headache and my throat hurts and I've got the chills and the sniffles and so on and other such ailments. I'm gonna continue writing this fic and finishing my novel, but if my writing style starts looking a little off, just know yeah, it's probably the fever. I'll get back to what I wrote and fix it, especially if you point out anything I missed. Thanks!

* * *

I ran as fast as I could through the empty fire escape stairwell and jumped the final ladder, screwing up the landing and skinning my knee on the concrete. I cursed through grit teeth as I continued to make my way off the hospital property, limping as fast as I could. My heart was pounding in my ears so loudly I could barely hear my own thoughts.

I hitched a ride onto the back of a delivery truck and forced myself to take a few deep, calming breaths.

"It's okay. You're not going crazy," I assured myself as I clung to the truck's back door latch. "You're not. This is just another one of those weird things that happens in this town, and I'll get to the bottom of it, and then it'll all make sense. Hopefully."

The truck only went in my direction about half way, then I had to jump off and head into my neighborhood. As I passed my bus stop, I could see the new kid's house ahead of me. _Is he there? Maybe his parents can shed some light into what is going on._

I figured it must be worth a shot, and I tried entering through the front door. _Locked._

Looked for a key under the door mat. _Nope._ Jumped the fence and landed on my knee again."Ow! Fuck!"

I clamped my mouth with one hand and my leg with the other. I sat in silence, rubbing some refreshing snow on my aching knee, waiting to hear if anyone had noticed my presence. Nothing. The night remained still.

I forced myself back onto my stiffening leg and tried the back door, which was also locked. "Man, where did these people live before coming here?" I grumbled inwardly before recalling that FBI agent who'd been tracking the new kid down.

_Oh right._

While searching for a back door key, I began to wonder what would happen if my power were memorable to others, what sort of attention I'd attract.

_I'd be chased down too, just like the new kid. They'd probably perform all sorts of weird tests on me too. Perhaps it's not so bad that people don't remember my deaths after all. But still, I wish Stan and Kyle would know what I'm going through, or at least believe me. Maybe then I wouldn't feel so crazy._

I couldn't find a spare key, so I tried to climb my way into a window, but my leg was having none of it. "Shit, shit fuck," I hissed as I got back down and clung to my knee. Next door, a second story window opened and I froze.

"Hey uh-, wh-whaddua doin down there?" _Butters_. "Oh my god, it's just you," I sighed in relief.

"K-Kenny? Why are ya-" he started, but I shushed him. "Meet me at your back door. I'll explain."


	13. Contradicting Roles are Confusing

My head feels like someone is squeezing it. I am so pissed off at this cold. But hey, at least I'm still writing and coming up with ideas and stuff. What's funny about this story is not even I exactly know where it's going. Not even sure how I'm ending it yet. Like I said, this fic was written from a thought and a whim. I looked to see if anyone else had thought of it but I didn't see anything on here. So here I am.

* * *

The back door slowly creaked open, revealing the overly concerned face of my sort of friend Butters. He was in footie pyjamas with little cartoon animals from some little kid's show sprinkled all over. Normally, I'd make fun of him, but not in the costume. Lucky him.

He twiddled his fingers nervously as he looked at me and seemed like he was about to say something until he looked down at my knee. "Oh Jesus Christ! You're bleeding!"

Part of me wanted to sarcastically reply "then heal me dickface paladin," but I held my tongue. To be honest I hadn't even noticed until he pointed it out, but in the light of his back porch I could see the trail of blood in the snow. "It's just a flesh wound," I replied with my gritty voice.

He didn't seem to know how to react. "Oh, uh, okay. I've got some bandages Mysterion if you'd like."

I shrugged and began heading inside. "Sure."

He sat me down in the kitchen and fetched bandages from the bathroom upstairs. "So I brought you regular ones and these cute Hello Kitty ones. I wasn't sure what kind you prefer," Butters explained as he showed me the two different boxes. I glared at him. Even the suit wasn't about to protect him from this one.

Butters quickly realized his mistake. "Right, regular kind it is. So uh, would you like some water or a juice box or something?" He pondered as he wet a paper towel.

I relented, having gotten really thirsty from all the midnight running. "Juice would be nice, thanks."

He handed me the box of juice still cold from the fridge and began patting my knee very gently to clean out the wound. I took in just how much I'd messed up my costume at that point. It was torn at the knee and blood was running down my leg into my socks and shoes. That was going to be a bitch to clean. Oh, and I guess my knee was kinda messed up too but eh.

"This is pretty bad. What happened?" he asked.

I cleared my throat and asked a question of my own. "You remember the new kid being at Hells Pass Hospital right?"

His blue eyes widened and he stopped cleaning my knee to stare up at me. "What? What happened? Is he okay?"

"What do you mean 'what happened'? You're the one who called and told me! Er- well, Kenny." I blushed at how flustered I'd gotten. I couldn't even maintain my not-so-secret identity.

"No, Kenny- er, Mysterion, I didn't-" he started, flinching, but I interrupted. "Yes! _You_ called _me_!"

"Shh," Butters warned, raising both hands in a surrendering position. "O-okay, please jus, just don't yell. I don't wanna get in trouble for inviting a superhero in the house again."

I took in a deep breath and let it out, lowering my voice. "Me, Kyle and Stan and you all drove with his dad and went to the hospital. Then we visited the new kid and told him how stupid he was for trying to kill himself! Don't you remember any of this?" As I explained, I'd gotten more frustrated and even got in his face.

Butters trembled at my words and backed away, completely terrified. "He tried to kill himself? Oh Jesus! Oh Lord in Heaven! Our Lord, our Savior! How do I not remember? Oh God!"

I facepalmed. "This is a waste of time. See ya later Butters." I got up and stuck a bandage on my leg and began to head out, but he followed me like a little lost puppy and grabbed my shoulder. "No, wait! I have so many questions! Why did he try to kill himself? What happened? What did you do to your knee? Is he okay?"_  
_

I shrugged him off and continued to the back door. "Why do you think I was trying to get into his house? I need to get to the bottom of all this."

Butters, in a surprising display of balls, used his body to block the way out. "W-well, you can't just go out in the middle of the night alone while you're hurt. You could get yourself killed!"

I let out a sardonic chuckle. "Yeah, I'm already aware," I replied as I pushed him aside and walked out into the backyard. He stayed at the door like the obedient little boy I knew he was at first, but then he continued to follow behind after quickly putting on shoes and a coat. "Ohhh I'm gonna get in so much trouble for this, but I can tell you need my help."


	14. Unlikely Ally

Unfortunately, this is a bit sad. However, it picks back up since kids have like, no attention span.

* * *

"I work alone, certainly not with the likes of you at least," I snapped as I headed towards the street.

"W-well maybe you shouldn't all the time! Besides, I care about Douchebag too Kenny! Er, Mysterion. Seriously which name am I suppos'ta call you? What's with the costume? Are we playin super heroes?" Butters asked all at once (irritatingly enough), catching up to me. "Wait, Douchebag's house is that way! Where're we goin?"

I rolled my eyes. "_I'm_ going to see Stan and Kyle. Maybe they'll remember something, but I doubt it."

His eyes lit up. "Yeah! Maybe they'll remember! Wait, you don't think so? Why?"

His question made me stop and stare off in the distance in thought. "Well, let's just say I think I've seen this before."

Butters continued to annoy me. "Before? Ohhh, like when I heard you kept sayin you die and no one ever remembers, right? So we _are_ playin superheroes?"

It's embarrassing, but something inside my mind just broke. I grabbed him by the coat and began shaking him in frustration and rage, yelling, "This IS NOT A GAME Butters! No one EVER REMEMBERS! _NO ONE_!"

The only thing that stopped me from beating the shit outta him was this look in his eyes. It wasn't how terrified he was that snapped me out of it, no. It was this weird sense that he sympathized with my pain. I threw him away from me and sank to my knees, removing the hooded mask and staring at the cracks in the frozen sidewalk as I tried to pull myself back together.

Butters came up from behind and tentatively placed a hand on my shoulder. I couldn't stop him. He pat my back reassuringly, "there there. It's okay. I'm here for ya buddy."

My voice cracked as I tried to maintain some sort of dignity. "No it's not _okay_. I die and die and no one ever remembers except me. It's not fun and it's anything but okay!"

I refused to look in his eyes because I was afraid of what I'd see. Disbelief I could probably handle, but he probably had that sweet motherly face that makes every boy cry, even when they become men. I really hated him for that.

"I'm sorry," he replied sincerely, "I don't mean to forget and I'd be really sad if I remembered you dyin 'cause I like you Kenny. And Stan and Kyle and your family and other friends and even Cartman would be sad if you died. Why gosh darn it, you're really special to a lotta people Kenny. I'm sure nobody forgets on purpose."

I balled my hands into fists so hard I could feel my fingernails through my gloves. Anger was spilling into hurt and I was trying really hard to stop myself, but the tears fell off my cheek anyway and I sobbed like a little bitch into my hands. Not one of my prouder moments. Stupid heartfelt Butters.

He hugged me and I was just too upset to stop him.

That is, until I saw a flash come from inside Cartman's living room window. Hurt turned back into anger as I spotted that fat fuck laughing his ass off, camera phone in hand.


	15. Cartman is an Asshole

Hoping this makes up for all the drama lately.

* * *

"Wha? What's going on?" Butters watched on in paralyzed confusion as I stormed towards Cartman's front window, replacing my hooded mask on my face.

As soon as fatass noticed me approaching, he did a little dance and pointed at his phone, then mocked me crying. I cracked my knuckles and threw him a very animated middle finger. "Fuck you Cartman you lardy cocksucker!"

Cartman opened the window so he could yell back. "Shut up you poor piece of shit! Some people are trying to sleep around here, but I guess you'd rather go be gay with Butters! That's _fine_! I don't care if you two are gay for each other but stop waking everybody up with your bitch fights and kinky superhero makeup sex!"

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. "I'm not gay for Butters you fat vagina eating dick licking assmaster! Where's the picture? I know you took one!"

"First of all _Kenny_, vagina eating dick licking assmaster? Seriously? You can't be gay and straight at the same time, dumbass. Second of all, you're too late. I already posted the picture on facebook. I even made up for the low lighting by upping the contrast, and now everyone's already seen it," the fatass smugly stated.

I really hate the way he says my name. It's less 'Kenny' and more 'Kinny', which is fucking annoying.

I thought for a moment. "Wait, you can too be gay and straight! And you forgot I also called you fat."

He turned from smug to angry. "Ahm not fat you can kiss mah black balls _Kiinny_! And you can NOT! It's physically impossible to be gay and straight otherwise you'll turn into a transsexual like Mr. Garrison was!"

I wasn't sure what he meant by that, but I knew it was wrong at least. "It doesn't seem to stop _your mom_! Or is she transsexual too?"

"_Kiinny you ass-licker!_ Take that back you fucking faggot!" Cartman screeched.

Butters finally interrupted us. "Fellas! We're gonna get in real big trouble if we don't keep it down, and, and it's called being bi so I found out-" Cartman rolled his eyes. "So I'm guessing you're the bottom, Butters? Or, oh wait, is Kenny the girl? 'Cause I've been wondering about him for a while now, playing a chick all the time-"

I glared up at Cartman. "I play a chick 'cause chicks are fucking badass! Take that picture down, _seriously_!" He just mocked me in a girly voice. "_Take that picture down, I'm so seriously!_ _Ahm Kinny and I don't like people taking pictures of me crying and kissing Butters like a little faggy transvestite!_"

"I'll fucking _kill_ you!" I headed for the front door but Cartman rushed over and locked it just in time. I began banging on it, my heart pounding from the adrenaline. "Open the door!"

I could hear him lean against the front door and laugh at me. "No way am I letting you touch me after you went gay for Butters! I don't care if you're a fag, but Butters? I'm so fucking seriously! That's cootie territory right there!"

Butters approached, crossing his arms. "Hey! I'm right here y'know! I didn't kiss Kenny and I like girls! No offense Kenny but girls are just, well-"

I stopped banging and thought for a moment. "Fucking hot?"

"Yeah! Girls are fucking hot," he finished with a satisfied look, then whispered, "Kenny, I've already reported the picture and took it down. He's banned from posting for a while. I thought we had important mission stuff to do."

I frowned. "I hate to admit it but you're right, Butters. This dickweed is wasting my time. I've got to find out the truth behind what happened tonight."

"What? What's a waste of time? What truth? What are you talking about _Kinny_?" Cartman asked, still hiding behind his door like a pussy.

"Real problems about things you wouldn't give a shit about because you only care about yourself, Cartman. Come on Butters, let's go." I nodded my head in the direction I intended to go and walked away.

Cartman yelled through the door. "Whatever! I don't care if you tell me! FINE! I'm not taking down that picture, fags!" Then, he opened the door, fully dressed. "I'm not taking it down! I'll be printing it for everyone to see at school tomorrow! _Kinny_! You'll become a social pariah! _KINNY_! I'm serious! Even Stan and Kyle won't talk to you!" He began following, keeping a safe distance. "_Kinny_? You got hand-me-downs for Christmas!"

I continued to give him the cold shoulder. Butters had gotten the idea and was ignoring him too.

"C'mon _Kinny_ stop ignoring me! Tell me why you're dressed as _Mysteriooooon_!" Cartman whined. I didn't bother to respond. I never should have fed the troll in the first place.


	16. Stan Weighs In

Somehow Cartman tags along even though he's not wanted. Sounds about right.

Author's stuff: Thanks for the reviews guys. I hope you're having as much fun reading as I am making it.

* * *

Cartman's whining was making him more and more difficult to understand. "You guuuys! I'm _so seriously_ you guys! I'm telling!"

"Go ahead and tell you nark," I shot back at him as I entered Stan's back yard and grabbed a pebble, then chucked it at his bedroom window.

Butters laughed a little too awkwardly. "Yeah, go home crybaby."

"Shut up Butters," both Cartman and I retorted, and then I chucked another pebble at Stan's window. I knew where his spare key was, but I didn't want to risk running into Stan's dad, who was probably still up even this late.

Finally, Stan came to his window, eyes dreary. He opened it up and looked down at the three of us, then pinched his nose. "Aww. Oh God. No. Just, no. Do you guys realize what time it is?"

Butters looked at his watch. "Uhhh crap, it's really late! It's almost 1am! I'm gonna get so grounded for this." I put out an arm in front of Stotch to shut him up. "I know, but I just need you to answer one question."

The black haired boy leaned on his window sill and yawned. "Fine, okay. It better be important."

Stan was gonna kill me in the morning. "What did you do today?" I asked.

He raised a tired brow. "Is this some sort of trick question or something?"

I bit my lip. "No. I'm totally serious. Just answer the question." Stan's eyes opened a little more and he yawned again, stretching. "Why are you in costume Kenny?" I rolled my eyes. "Just answer the question, okay?"

He finally conceded, pinching his nose in irritation. "Okay, okay, fine. Uhh I ate breakfast and had a fight with my sister, checked facebook and went to the bus stop. Cartman farted so bad we almost died-"

Eric's laugh interrupted. "Sweet."

"No, fast forward to after school," I insisted, ignoring fatass. Stan looked even more irritated and ruffled his bed head. "Ummm, me and Kyle had lunch at his house and then went door to door selling Mr. Garrison's stupid homework sweets. Then we had dinner at my place and he left, then I got ready for bed and fell asleep and then you assholes woke me up."

Butters gasped. "He doesn't remember either, just like you said, Mysterion!" I rolled my eyes, feeling a little awkward.

Stan quirked a suspicious brow at me. "Remember what? I'm not playing superheroes Kenny."

Before I could explain, Butters blurted out "apparently I called you guys and told you the new kid had attempted suicide! And we all visited him at the hospital! But for some reason we don't remember, just like how we don't remember Kenny dying all the time! But he remembers it all and now we're getting to the bottom of this mystery!"

My jaw dropped and I could feel the butterflies in my stomach. Somewhere in the background, I could hear Cartman ripping on me, but I didn't hear what he said. I should have known talking to Butters at all was a huge mistake. I looked back over at Stan, who was glaring dully at me. I looked away, holding my breath, awaiting Stan's inevitable dismissal.

"Kenny, what the hell dude? I'm not _playing_ superheroes this late at night!" he chastised. I looked back up at him defiantly before thinking it through. "I'm not _playing_, Stan! I figured you wouldn't believe me!" This caused Cartman to stifle a laugh.

Stan went from pinching his nose to rubbing his face in irritation. "Kenny, I applaud your imagination and I would love to join you, but-"

I stuck my middle finger up at him angrily. "Forget it! Just shut up and go back to bed." He quickly went from irritated to concerned. "Wait, you really are serious. Dude, are you okay?" I shook my head at him and began heading back towards Douchebag's house, feeling utterly humiliated.

"Wow, McCormick has finally lost it. I figured this would happen sooner or later," Cartman stated in faked concern, barely concealing his amusement.

"Kenny, wait!" Stan implored.

I had to ignore him. He'd gradually forget again, hopefully, or write this instance off as a prank. I never wanted to reveal what was actually going on to Stan or Kyle, but Butters had outed me, and even worse, now Cartman had something else he could use against me. _  
_

_New kid, you'd better not be fucking with me._


	17. And Kyle Makes Five

More boring talking about my life: I finished chapter 18 of my novel, finally. And now it's going to be divided into two more chapters before it ends. I can't rush the finale. Anyway, still sick, but starting to feel better. I can hardly talk though. Stupid throat. Argh. I'm currently missing the hanamatsuri in NYC and it suuucks.

To those reading: If you've enjoyed this story so far, but have not commented, I do implore that you consider commenting this time around. I thrive off of having an audience. You have the power to give me strength and encouragement. Also, reviews help others to know the story is worth checking out, so please, even if you don't have much to add, do at least make yourself known. I look forward to hearing from you.

* * *

The call came around 1am. My cellphone's vibration woke me from a light and troubled sleep. "Who the hell would be calling so late?" I grumbled as I lifted my head and pulled out my phone, silencing it and wincing as I gazed at the caller ID.

"Stan?"

"Kyle, hi," he responded, rather awake.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"It's Kenny. He's acting weird," Stan informed me.

"Kenny's always weird; you're going to have to be more specific," I muttered as I wiped my eyes and sat up from bed.

I could hear Stan sigh in frustration at me. "Yeah, but I mean even for him. He's running around in his Mysterion costume with Butters and Cartman-"

I stopped him mid explanation. "So what? I guess his parents are just keeping him up again with all their stupid fighting. That sucks but-"

He interrupted with urgency. "Kyle I'm serious! That's not what bothers me. He's losing it again dude. Just meet me outside and go see for yourself."

I sighed with resign as I started to get dressed. "Fine. But if he's really losing it maybe we should wake up the grownups and ask for help."

"I don't know if that's really the answer. What if he got taken away again? Then it would be our fault for not helping him ourselves." Stan's voice was quivering on the other line.

I didn't know what the hell I could do, but I could tell my best friend needed me. "I'll be out in a moment," I informed. Stan acknowledged me and we hung up. As I stood there, adjusting my hat and coat, I wondered just what the hell would make Stan so worried.

_It's Kenny, so it could be anything. He really is the most troubled out of us four, excluding Cartman's being a complete psychopath. His adventurous and careless attitude tends to get him into a lot of trouble, and it's like he never learns. What can we do to talk some sense into him?_

I tiptoed out of my house and met Stan out front. He grabbed my hand and began heading in the direction towards the bus stop. "Are you going to tell me what's going on Stan?" I entreated as I was forced to pick up my steps.

Stan looked back at me with worry in his eyes. "Yeah, I'm not sure but I think Kenny is like, hallucinating or something, and I'm worried about what he might try."


	18. The Gang Assembles

**_Author Notes: Lost the original chapter. I can't believe my lousy luck._**

**_Random stuff you can skip: Uh... Is it just me, or is there an inordinate plethora of South Park "yaoi"/slash? Hey, I'm all for gender-bending sexuality-flipping anime-emulating shenanigans, but can you guys tell me what's appealing about completely disregarding the well established characteristics of this beloved franchise?_**

**_Tell me, what are your thoughts? Should we aim to emulate the characters we hold in high regard as closely to their original intent as possible? Or is that just really narrow minded thinking? What sort of benefits do we as fans gain from tweaking characters to suit our story needs? Is straying or emulating a benefit or a hindrance to our growth as writers?_**

**_LOL I'm so sorry for suddenly waxing philosophical at you guys. But hey, if you have any thoughts/responses, lemme know._**

**_4/27/14 Edit: Fixed grammar. Added a bit of flavor text. Much more coherent now that I don't have a fever.  
_**

**_(By the way, just to be completely clear, be rest assured I have NO intention of writing fanfic out of character, ever. To me, that defeats the purpose of writing fanfics, as I'm already a writer of original material. However, as a writer, I'm always curious as to why people do things, so I'm asking the majority of fanfiction writers why they choose to write so out-of-character. A lot of people do it, and it's even popular, so obviously it has some sort of benefit and meaning._**

**_However, it'd be really fun to write a parody fic where canon emulated characters meet the common fanon emulated characters and react accordingly. I have a feeling in this fandom, there would be much bloodshed and eating of parents.)_**

* * *

I viewed the new kid's house through binoculars. "It appears there have been no changes. Just one light on in the master bedroom. Butters, this is your last chance to sneak back into bed and avoid getting grounded. We could get in a lot of trouble for this."

He shook his head, smiling at me and then giving a worried glance back at Cartman. "I've gotta feeling I'm already gonna get grounded. Don't worry 'bout me Mysterion. I'm here for ya buddy."

"Since when were you and Mysterion buddies?" Cartman jealously demanded. Butters bit his lip uncomfortably. "Uh, well uh, Kenny's my buddy, so I guess Mysterion is too, in a way. It's all so confusing really." Fatass laughed at me. "Hah! Kenny and Butters, sitting in the street, K.I.S.S.-"

"That's enough, fatass! I don't have time for your bullshit," I interrupted. "Shut up or go home."

Butters chimed in after, "y-yeah Eric, I'm not gay anyway and I don't get why you keep sayin I am."

Cartman merely snorted at us. "Kenny, you don't seriously believe you're the only one who remembers the truth and everyone else is just wrong, do you? Because that would be fucking retarded."

"He does believe that, and that means I believe it too," Butters proclaimed proudly.

Cartman crossed his arms, face mocking concern. "_Oh my God_; you're both total retards. I should call the funny farm and have you put away for the sake of the public. This happens in movies, _Kenny_! The hero remembers something crazy that happened and then everyone else is all, 'no that didn't happen', and he's all like 'I've gotta get to the bottom of this', just like you are now! And that's how I know you're just _fucking crazy_." He particularly enunciated the last two words 'fucking crazy' as if that were an absolute fact.

"Shut up Cartman. I know what I remember was real, and regardless of whether I'm crazy or not, I _do_ need to get to the bottom of this, and nothing you say will stop me," I replied sternly.

"And that's what the fucking hero would say too! _But the fact is_, we all know that if this were real, I'd be the fucking hero! You're too fucking poor and ugly to be the hero, _Kiinny!_"

I gave him a look that told him how stupid I thought he was, but then I was distracted by two kids off in the distance. "Guys!" Kyle called to us, waving his arm. I winced. This whole thing was turning into a fucking fiasco. Not like I should have been surprised.

Stan and Kyle caught up and stood beside me, both of them looking me over in concern like I had completely derailed. Kyle spoke first. "Kenny, er- Mysterion, Stan told me everything. We came here to help." I rolled my eyes for what felt like the millionth time that night and groaned at them both, palm meeting face. Stan approached next. "Whatever you need to do, count us in." That surprised me. This night has been filled with surprises.

I got what I wanted. My two dearest friends stood by my side in my hour of need. I just wished they knew what I was dealing with was real.

I looked from Kyle to Stan in uncertainty. "You don't even believe me. Why are you helping?"

Kyle smiled reassuringly, holding back his worry. "Because dude, that's what friends do. And whether or not you're crazy, you could use our help because this is real to you."

Stan's frown diminished somewhat. "Yeah. So what's the plan, Mysterion?"


	19. Project Locate Douchebag Begins

**_Personal stuff you can totally skip over: Needed those lovely reviews. It's like not only are they giving me energy to work on this fic, they're also boosting my self esteem in other areas of my life, like for my novel. My life hasn't been very easy the past few years (to get an idea you can see my other fic on this site, inspired by real life events), not that I have room to complain like I'm so special. However, it really makes a difference to see people acknowledge the skills I've worked so hard to build. God, I'm getting a bit mushy. Ew. _**

**_Anyway, so I'm still sick, and now it's less malaise and more faucet nose and sore throat. I'm thinking far more clearly and energetically than even just yesterday! My girlfriend says the hanamatsuri was really nice. We were supposed to go together, but at least she took pictures._**

**_General Response: Wow guys! Thanks for the responses! I really needed that. It makes me feel all warm and gooey inside to know how pleased my audience is with this fic. I'll keep going for all of you! Apologies if I hadn't responded to you individually. Just know that you're freaking awesome in my book._**

**_As for the fic itself, some kind of action is starting to build, most definitely. ;) Patience my dearest readers, as the climax is sure to thrill and chill. Also, I've made my decision. The New Kid will be portrayed with no physical description due to his changeable nature. I may, however, make him a little gassy. Not sure yet._**

**_Response to Individual Reviewers: NEXT CHAPTER  
_**

* * *

"Okay, listen up. I've got to find Douchebag and ask him just what in the hell is going on," I started.

"Question," Butters interrupted. I sighed in resignation, and he continued. "What if he's not in the house? What then?"

I shrugged. "I'm playing this by ear at the moment. Not sure what I'd do."

Kyle raised a brow at this. "Okay, so we're going to break into the new kid's house. Sounds _perfectly _legal and safe. Here's a suggestion, just to be sure. Have you tried calling him recently?"

I hesitated as the group collectively stared at me. "I didn't think of that," I muttered sheepishly. _Leave it to Kyle to think of something pragmatic that everyone else happened to overlook._

Kyle gaped at me, huffing like a disappointed parent. "_No._"

I offered a guilty smile, hoping it might placate him slightly.

"Seriously? _Seriously?_ Okay, I'll call him right now." With an annoyed sigh directed at me, Kyle brought up the new kid's number on his cell and gave it a dial, then listened for a bit before hanging up in aggravation. "Just went right to voicemail."

Stan patted him on the shoulder. "It was a good idea."

"Fucking amateur," Cartman spat. "If you want to get Douchebag's attention, the solution is simple." Kyle crossed his arms, looking a bit insulted. "We're waiting, Cartman." Everyone looked at Eric expectantly, including myself.

The fat fuck paused, feeding on the spotlight. "No guesses, huh? Why do I always have to do all the thinking around here?" This pushed Kyle over the edge. "Just tell us your idea, fatass!"

Cartman raised his chunky arms in the air as if surrendering. "Okay, okay! No need to get violent, Jewboy. All we have to do is throw a burning bag of crap through his bedroom window."

"What?! That's ridiculous!" Kyle countered, followed by the collective agreement of the rest of the group. Cartman let out a mean laugh. "Fine, you go ahead and do it _your way_. I can see my methods are far too intellectual for such inferior minds." The rest of us were already ignoring him by that point.

I rubbed my chin in thought. "Already looked for a key at both the front and back entrance, and I can't climb anymore tonight." Butters placed a motherly hand on my shoulder. "Yeah, you've got to take it easy Kenny. I don't like the looks of your leg."

Stan put his hand over his mouth and tapped. "Ummm, how about one of us climbs onto the strongest person's back and we try opening the first floor windows? Then that kid can unlock the door from the inside."

I hummed in thought. "We should give it a try. Butters, you're the lightest out of us excluding myself, aren't you?" He compared himself to everyone else. "Me? Uh, I gained some weight recently. I dunno."

Cartman rolled his eyes. "It's obvious I'm the strongest out of everyone, but no way am I letting Butters stand on my shoulder. Stan, you do it." Stan seemed a bit surprised, but then he shrugged his shoulders. "Okay. You'd better not drop me though, Cartman," he warned.

Eric snorted arrogantly as he headed toward the window. "Of course I won't."


	20. The Search: Part 1

**_Response to Individual Reviewers:_**

**_BraveEagle- Hello again! "i think it's way easier to make the character suit the needs of the writer because it doesn't require you to study the source material as much." That's a very insightful point. I suppose that implies taking the character out of context would be less work, and therefore perhaps detrimental to the growth of a writer overall?_**

**_the-hunger-jaws- Wow, you're making me blush. Thanks so much for appreciating my work._**

**_Slappy McTaffy- Um, thanks for sharing. Er, yes! Thanks for your comment. I'm feeling better already._**

**_Cortez30- Thanks for letting me know your point of view. It's very helpful. I'm not exactly sure what makes anyone think Stan or Kyle is closeted. South Park is witty, but it's not known for subtlety. I think the creators would make it very clear if that was their intention. Not to act like I'm some expert on the subject or anything, 'cause that would make me a total douche. This is only my personal impression of course._**

**_If anyone's a bit in the closet, it's Eric Cartman. He's homophobic, excessively utilizes cooties as an excuse to avoid girls (even by a fourth grade boy's standards), has only had sexual relationships with men (Ben Affleck), and only seems to worship and keep company with men. He's so far in the closet he makes Narnia look shallow. _**

**_My thoughts are that Stan and Kyle are what I like to call 'platonic life partners', just like the creators they're based off of. I've definitely had that kind of relationship too, and people kept insisting we were closeted in love as well. I can't help but draw comparisons. I could go on and on about how the western world overemphasizes the importance of romantic love while diminishing the importance of platonic bonds, under the guise that 'sex sells', but I don't wish to make this response any longer than it already is._**

**_TheLastWolfus- Hey there. I totally appreciate your repeat reviews of my content! Let me reassure you that I will never write fanfiction that doesn't emulate the original content to the best of my ability. That's how my fanfictions (the few there are) will always be. I personally guarantee that._**

**_Wow, I promise I'm not going to do that regularly. I hope this section doesn't end up longer than the chapter._**

* * *

I climbed up Cartman's fat ass and got on his shoulders. He grunted at the added weight. "Don't you dare lay an SBD on me Stan!" he said, straining to hold me up. I chuckled at the idea, but reassured him of otherwise so he wouldn't drop me on purpose. "I won't dude, just keep me up. You're shaking too much."

"How much do you weigh Stan?" Cartman moaned. I rolled my eyes as I pulled open the window to the new kid's livingroom and slipped inside. I poked my head back out, speaking in a harsh whisper. "Okay guys, I'm gonna let you in the front."

Cartman sat on his ass, huffing and sweating. "You guys, just go on without me. I'll stand watch." Kenny as Mysterion didn't seem to give a shit and almost appeared relieved. "Fine."

I closed the window and tip toed through the living room. There still wasn't a lot of stuff in his house yet, so I had little issue getting to the door and opening it for my friends. "What now Mysterion?"

Kenny looked up at me, still seeming kinda sad, like he was carrying some big burden I couldn't possibly understand. He didn't usually get like this, but it reminded me of how we'd been growing apart lately. He just got stranger and stranger as time went on and Kyle and I understood his motivations less and less. His most recent Nazi-Zombie-Princess-Kenny escapade being a prime example of this. The Kenny I used to know was adventurous but not suicidal.

He smiled at me genuinely. "Thanks Stan." I smiled back. "Yeah man." He entered the house, draping his cape in front of his chest. "Stan and Kyle, take the downstairs. Butters and I will check upstairs."

I couldn't help but feel like he was grouping me and Kyle together like as if saying 'yeah, you two are inseparable friends and there's no room for me in there'. Kyle seemed to be thinking something similar. However, we firmly nodded in understanding and began to search the downstairs for clues as to the new kid's whereabouts.

I could hear Kenny straining to walk up the stairs, since we were still looking through the livingroom. "How did he hurt himself so badly again?" I whispered, more to myself, but within Kyle's earshot. He turned on the flashlight function on his phone and whispered back, "I was wondering the same thing. That kid is never careful. And what's with him being so secretive lately? I've got the feeling he didn't want us to be in on this little venture."

I looked around to make sure we were still alone as Kyle searched through papers on the coffee table. "What do you mean? Well, actually now that I think of it, Butters is the one who told me what happened, and then Kenny looked all awkward and got mad. So I guess you must be right."

Kyle rested the papers back exactly how he'd left them. He had experience being sneaky because of his mom. "Yeah. I guess if we think of it from his perspective it makes sense though. I mean, he's experienced something no one else remembers. If I went through that I'd assume no one would believe me either. I'd think I was going crazy. Poor Kenny." He got up and headed for the kitchen and I followed close behind.

"Yeah. I feel like an asshole for not believing him now. I mean, what if we all really did forget today? When I keep thinking about what happened, parts of my day feel kinda fuzzy, like I can't remember at all," I admitted. I could tell Kyle was shaking his head at me while he looked through some documents on the kitchen table. "Dude, it can't be real. You're just working yourself up over all this. Kenny's just going through another weird phase of his. Huh, so that's where they moved from." I leaned in to take a look. "Where? Ohh. Huh, that's really interesting. I hope the new kid doesn't stop talking to us for this. I kinda like him."

Kyle chuckled. "When did he ever start talking to us?" That got me laughing too. "Touche."


	21. The Search: Part 2

Oh, what do we have here? Another clue? I've uploaded a picture for this story specifically. It's from the official website, free use. I actually have nearly finished a drawing for it, but I've been too lazy to pull out my scanner and edit it and such. And by lazy I mean sick as fuck.

* * *

Butters looked over at me in surprise. "Really? You want me to come with you? Okay, uh, sure Mysterion," he whispered. Part of me wanted to tell him to be more confident in himself, but every time someone gives that kid advice, he takes it way too seriously and turns into like, a pimp or something. There's no way I'd want to be responsible for cleaning up that shit.

I forced myself up the stairs and Butters followed, purposely staying right behind me as I agonized over every step. _Is this going to kill me next? It's a lot worse than I gave it credit._ I could feel my peer's concerned gaze on my back, and that gave me the strength to keep going.

As we neared the top, I could see that the only light in the hall was that escaping through the closed door of the master bedroom. I glided to Douchebag's room and went to open the door, only to feel that the door was already opened a crack. I pressed my arm against it slowly and it gave way silently, unlike any of my doors at home. Must be nice to have new things.

Butters was so silent I nearly forgot he was right behind me until he breathed a faint sigh of nervousness. I swallowed, feeling a little anxiety as well, but that wasn't going to stop me when I'd finally gotten so close. We entered the room, convinced we were ready for any possibility.

The light flickered on, causing my heart to skip a beat. I turned around, prepared to face an enemy, which seemed to startle Butters, whose hand was on the switch. "S-sorry", he whispered. "Oh my gosh. Kenny! The new kid's not here."

"What?" I whirled back around, gritting my teeth. Sure enough, there was his bed, but he wasn't fucking there. "WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!" I demanded, hardly able to keep my voice quiet. Butters hushed me and turned off the light before grabbing my arm and forcing me into the closet with him. "Someone's coming," he finally explained.

We listened to two sets of footsteps enter the new kid's bedroom. "I just don't get why he would do such a thing," a voice I recognized as the kid's mom spoke softly. The other voice was obviously the douche father. "I don't know honey. I just don't know. Please, come back to bed." The mother spoke again. "No, I thought I heard something." The father huffed angrily. "You're hearing things again dear. It's just the new house playing tricks with unfamiliar sounds." The mother sighed. "Yes, I suppose you're right. Let's go back to bed."

Butters and I stared at one another in the cramped closet, both of our eyes wide. As soon as the coast was clear, we exited and hastily made our way to the stairs.

My leg must have missed a step because a few steps after the top, I lost my footing and came crashing down. I heard the collective gasps of my friends and movement upstairs as I regained awareness, sprawled upside down on the last three steps and the landing. Today was just one of _those_ days, wasn't it.


	22. Chi Chis

Hey guys! So it seems my work has helped inspire another fic writer to finish their own story. It's called "Disposable", by Blank Personality, and it's a macabre one shot starring the New Kid and Kenny's dealings with the strange, dark and terrifying Old Gods.

I found it enjoyable, but I don't want to spoil anything. Give it a read and see for yourselves.

* * *

"Oh my God, Kenny!" I could clearly hear Stan's voice, but the darkness around me was spinning. I heard myself groan, but I wasn't in enough control of my own body to formulate a coherent sentence. "Quick, we've got to get out of here," one of my friends said with urgency.

I could feel someone picking me up. _Huh, the scent of my honorary native Hawai'i._

My mind drifted to the beautiful white sandy beaches, crystal clear blue water, all the chi chis you could drink and oh, the boobies.

_Perky, bouncy, fake, real, large, small, average, filled with youthful life, elegantly aged, like fine wine. Boobies. Yeah, occasionally there were man boobies, also known as moobies, but hey. You take the bad with the good. _

_Besides, sometimes if they're hairless and you squint, moobies aren't that bad. Mine for instance. They're total chick and dude magnets. Hence why I wear my parka all the time, otherwise I'd draw too much attention to my very better than average looking bod and accidentally make the girls all want me and the guys all confused and totes jelly. Heh, that's pretty funny. I could actually imagine that happening._

_Anyway, in Oh-hawi'i, it's so nice. Boobies everywhere, none hidden under coats like in South Park. That's the way it should be._

I heard a door slam and the warmth of Kawah'i left me, replaced by the cold, unforgiving Colorado snow. _Oh right. I don't have time for day dreaming. I've got to wake up._

My eyes fluttered open and I could kind of see my neighborhood moving at a slanted angle as I was carried off. The warmth returned as we entered a home, bright and inviting. I was set down and I could see each of my dear friends' concerned faces surrounding me, circling round and round.

_'Why gosh darn it, you're really special to a lotta people Kenny. I'm sure nobody forgets on purpose.' God damn it Butters. Who gave you the right to say that to me?_

I closed my eyes again, feeling a little sick from the dizziness and pain and just listened until the ringing in my head faded and I could hear what everyone was saying. "No, if you call the hospital, we'll all get in fucking trouble. We'll just have to fix this on our own." _Gotta be Cartman. Even his voice sounds fat._

"But what if he's got a concussed head? That's real dangerous Eric. I'm not gonna let you drop him off at the vet like you did to me." _That has to be Butters._

"Will you ever let that go? Your eye healed just fine. Don't forget it was Kenny's fault in the first place." _Goddamn asshole._ "Besides, I never said he needs to go anywhere. It's Kenny. He'll probably just wake up and tell us what a boner it gave him." _Ew Cartman!_

"Ew Cartman! That's sick dude!" _Heh, that's gotta be my dear Stanley._

I opened my eyes and forced myself to sit up, propping my elbows against the carpet. Everything just continued spinning, causing me to be unable to get my bearings. The ringing returned, as if my body were threatening me, no daring me, to get up.

"Kenny!" I faintly heard. "Kenny, please don't push yourself; you're hurt." I could barely make it out over the din in my head. "You're okay little buddy. You're okay. We're gonna get you help."

"No," I insisted, taking on that dare my body gave me and forcing myself to sit all the way up, and then to roll onto my hands and knees. Everything was dark and sparkling, and my stomach was doing barrel rolls, but Mysterion sure as hell wasn't about to give up here. _The night is still young_, I reminded myself. _Douchebag. Where are you?_


	23. The Stotches

As I gained a bit more bodily awareness, I could tell my knees were both killing me, but especially my left one. I pulled myself up onto the sofa and shakily rested against it. _This is the Stotch residence living room._

Cartman's voice interrupted the thoughts I was regaining. "No! Screw you guys, Ahm goin' home. _Goin', home_." I heard a door close and turned to see the fatass had left. Part of me, make that most of me, sighed in relief.

Butters stood in front of me and took off my hood, checking me over as he held some ice on top of the bump on my head. "Kenny? How're ya feelin?"

"Ow ow ow," I complained, trying to push him off me but failing miserably. "I'm okay, I'm okay; stop it."

Stan sat on the coffee table, also looking me over. "No dude, you fell pretty hard. You're not okay." Kyle sat on the other side of me at the couch and chimed in. "You should probably see a doctor."

I laughed at the very thought. "No way. I'm fine," I insisted, trying to recall what led up to this scenario in my head. _Something about that stupid douchebag new kid_, and that's about all I could come up with at that second. Besides, something much more immediate came to all of our attention just then.

"Butters Stotch!"

The kind face of Butters turned into one of sheer horror. "Oh God, dad!"

Kyle and Stan simultaneously nearly jumped out of their skin, catching curse words just before they escaped their mouths. I found I was too tired to show any fear at all.

His father marched into the room and stood in front of us all and Butters got smaller and smaller until he was practically hiding behind me. I could feel him literally shaking as he continued to hold the ice to my head.

_This guy has an unnaturally powerful hold on Butters, and every time I see his shitty haircut and creeper face I just want to beat the shit outta him._ But I kept those opinions to myself because surely it would do no good for me to say something about it, especially without any proof.

"Butters! Just what are you doing?! How many times have I told you not to invite heroes in the house?! And what is this? Some sort of party?! Just what the hell is going on?!" The three of us unrelated boys stayed out of it, quiet and at attention, as perfectly still as our bodies would allow.

Butters got up and handed me the icepack, looking down sheepishly. "You've told me several times now, sir."

"That's right! And do you _ever_ listen?!" Mr. Stotch placed his hands on his hips. I couldn't help but think of what a fucked up man he was. What right did he have to yell at Butters like that? _Does being a parent really give you that much right?_

"No, sir. I'm sorry that I never listen. I'm a bad boy," Butters sincerely apologized. The grown man seemed satisfied with this and lowered his voice, but still seemed angry. "What are you three doing here in the middle of the night? Do your parents know where you are?"

Kyle at this point was quaking in fear. "Please sir, don't tell my mom. Please! I beg of you. I promise this will never ever happen again."

Stan frowned sympathetically. "This is all my fault Mr. Stotch. I was meeting with Kenny and Kyle was just trying to convince us to go home, and when Kenny slipped and fell Butters took us in and was about to wake you up after calling the doctor. Please, don't tell Kyle's mom and don't punish Butters for something that is entirely my fault."

Butters's dad quirked a brow, looking at his son's shocked face. I backed up Stan's story, except better. "I was staying out late trying to fight crime and Stan and Kyle were trying to convince me to go back home when I slipped. Then Butters, being a really good friend helped me inside and was tending to my wounds." I put everything I could into it, but I didn't even have to try to sound pathetic.

Mr. Stotch's mood visibly improved. "Huh, friends? Well, if that's how things really happened, I suppose Butters is in less trouble. I guess I can overlook the superhero thing considering you two are friends. Kyle, Stan, you'd both better go right home and I swear, if anything like this ever happens again, I will have a talk with both of your parents." The boys nodded fervently and gave me a grateful look before heading out into the cold night.

"And you, you're the McCormick boy Kenny right?"

I opened my eyes and looked up at him. _When had I closed them?_ "Yes sir," I responded. He stepped over the coffee table and motioned for Butters to move aside, then started to look me over himself. He paid special attention to my head and my knee, humming softly. "How do you feel?"

I pulled myself together. "I'm okay," I insisted. He pulled out his cellphone, but whoever he called didn't answer, which seemed to make him unhappy. "Mrs. McCormick, it's Stephen Stotch. I've got your son Kenny at my house. Call me back ASAP, but since it's late I'm going to let him sleep here for the night and send him back in the morning." I looked up at him and then at Butters with a sigh of both relief and irritation. _A sleepover? With Butters? Now fucking Cartman's really gonna rag on me. _Butters smiled hopefully at me. _Ugh._

After I finished cleaning myself up, Butters knocked on the bathroom door and opened it, quickly averting his eyes. "Whoa, sorry Kenny. Didn't know you were in your undies." I rolled my eyes at him. "So? What did you want?" He looked back over at me and handed me a pink hooded onesie with bunny ears and a little tail. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I practically shouted with grit teeth.

He bit his lip and nervously fiddled with his hands. "I'm sorry Kenny; it's all I got, but it'll keep you snug and cozy." I didn't want to cause him any more trouble than I already had, so I sighed and slipped into the one piece, pulling the long eared hood over my head. I tugged at the strings instinctively and the hood opening shrunk until I was nearly hidden behind it. "It's comfy at least," I admitted, voice muffled. His anxiety melted away and he smiled. "Tomorrow, we'll find Douchebag together, but for now, let's get some rest. We've got a full day of school ahead of us."


	24. The Sleepover

It's embarrassing to admit, but some of Kenny's reactions are inspired by my own as a kid. It's like, you go from bare minimum, struggling so hard, and then you contrast that with these people who just have so much free time and money. When I was young, it made quite an impression on me. Especially because, love my mom, but she's not a cook. So good cooking always shocked me and turned me into that kid who ate way too much at other people's houses. God, when I discovered you can make steak and chicken that's not dry and flavorless, I freaked. So, there's that admission thrown into the vast public interweb.

By the way, am I imagining things, or wasn't there some point Butters actually had that set of bunny pyjamas? I really don't think I just made it up.

Oh, one more thing, I rewrote the first few chapters.

* * *

I was ushered into Butters's bedroom, and there I could see that Butters had already kindly set up a sleeping bag and race car themed comforter with two pillows on his floor. I sat down there and Butters sat down beside me, about three feet away. "Oh, no, if it's okay I'm gonna take the floor and you can take the bed," he explained.

"Oh," I uttered, a bit surprised, and then climbed into his bed and looked down at him. "You didn't have to. Thanks." He shook his head. "What are friends for? Does your head still hurt buddy?"

_When had we gone from kinda friends to actual good friends?_ I pondered. _Tonight, I guess. No, actually, we'd been getting closer for some time now, to the point where the sleepover actually didn't feel weird at all like I thought it would.  
_

I shook my head. "Nah," I lied. My cranium was pounding like a jackhammer, but I'd just taken something for it while in the bathroom. He smiled up at me, and I smiled back. It was kinda nice to have someone that actually believed me, even though it wasn't Stan or Kyle. And at least it wasn't Cartman. Fucker would kill me all the time if he found out he could.

We fell asleep after we were tucked in, something I don't usually still get, but he seems to every night. I really hadn't seen that softer side of his parents before, and it was reassuring. _They do actually care about him. They're just idiots, like the rest of adults_, I thought to myself before drifting off to sleep.

The next morning I awoke to some delightful smell. My eyes cracked open, slowly at first, but as soon as I realized where I was, I shot out of bed but my bad knee collapsed from under me, causing me to fall on Butters, who woke up and helped me back to my feet. "Whoa. Are you okay there Kenny?"

I shrugged him off of me, rolling my eyes and dismissing the injury entirely. If the Old Ones thought this was going to stop me or even slow me down, they were mistaken. I've been torn apart, buzz-sawed, eaten by monsters, squished, choked, drowned, ODed, shot, stabbed, bled to death, coughed out my insides, and so on. This was absolutely nothing to me.

We went down the stairs and followed the enticing smell emanating from the kitchen. Mrs. Stotch was there in a pink bathrobe, handing Mr. Stotch a cup of coffee and his newspaper. There were just piles of tasty pancakes lying there on a big plate, partially covered by a cloth napkin. A huge jug of actual 100% maple syrup lay beside it. I could have cried in happiness had I not been wearing a pink bunny eared onesie.

We sat down and Mrs. Stotch gave a welcoming smile. "Good morning boys. Help yourselves. There's more where that came from," she said with a wink. My eyes widened and I sat down, forking up a huge stack for myself and pouring syrup all over it. There were even cut up strawberries, which I also gladly put on my plate.

"Wow Kenny, you sure you gonna eat all that?" Butters asked as he sat down. Mr. Stotch gave a little chuckle. "Don't worry Butters; he's a guest. Besides, I'm pretty sure he's just so excited for your mother's amazing pancake recipe."

Mrs. Stotch giggled, "oh you. Stop! You're making me blush." She bounced off to get us a glass of orange juice AND a glass of milk. What's with that? When those two mix in the stomach, it just feels kinda weird. Anyway, I decimated my plate as the grownups and Butters were just chitchatting about school and friends and work. _He's got a more ideal life than I gave him credit, I guess._

Mr. Stotch tried calling my parents again, and surprisingly she managed to get my mom, who promised to get my brother Kevin to bring over clothes but didn't. She'd probably only said she would because she forgot or didn't know Kevin wasn't there.

So, as time passed, Mr. Stotch grew impatient. "Butters, see if Kenny will just fit into your clothes. You kids need to go to school soon." Then I heard him say something under his breath about Stuart and my mom being drunk assholes, which they totally deserved, but still I shot an accusatory glance at him anyway before being led back upstairs.

"What's with the pink bunny pyjamas anyway Butters?" I finally asked as he dug into his dresser. He gave a nervous laugh, "oh, well it's from my grandma," he explained. It still didn't make sense to me. "Seriously? Doesn't she know you're a boy?" He threw a few choices down beside me on the bed but avoided eye contact. "Y-yeah," he conceded, pulling out some shirts from his closet. He sounded pretty uncomfortable, so I let it be and just started picking out something my size.

I pulled on a pair of green corduroy pants and some gothy black band shirt and a hoodie from Hot Topic. I pulled on the draw strings until it was tight and we went back downstairs. It was too late to catch the bus, but we were driven to school instead.

This time for certain, I was determined I'd find the new kid and make him explain himself. He couldn't hide from me forever.


	25. Class Disruption

Butters and I walked into the school and towards the usual meeting grounds, but it seemed we were just a little late because the bell rang for class to begin. Without getting the chance to catch up after the events of last night, we all shuffled into the classroom and sat down.

Mr. Garrison again looked about before closing the door, and it caused a collective sigh to utter from my friends and myself. But then, the door opened, and the new kid came walking in. My eyes widened and I stared at him, doing everything I could to keep myself restrained to my seat. The teacher closed the door behind him. "Oh good. Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence. Everyone, this is the new kid. Here new kid, I heard you don't speak so here's a piece of chalk to introduce yourself with."

The kid looked up at Mr. Garrison and received the chalk, proceeding to write down his name, and that was about it. A little more than half the class let out little murmurs. "Okay, wow, very original kid," Mr. Garrison sarcastically responded. "Now go sit down next to Kenny. Class, let's all welcome him and not make fun of him for being mute." I glared at him as he came to sit beside me, but he didn't even bother looking my way.

Class began and there he was, writing at his desk like nothing had even happened the day before.

When the teacher turned his back, I quickly jotted down a note. "What happened yesterday?" I passed it to him and he glanced at it and began writing back. My heart picked up pace as I waited. It took almost ten minutes, but he got it back to me, folded up carefully. I spread it out, only to find something that just made me more confused.

My letters were all carefully and mechanically scribbled out with red ink and underneath it was his response, but it wasn't even in words. He'd drawn a giant circle with bizarre nonsensical syllables within it and a figure in the center with its face hidden underneath a hooded cloak, colored in yellow-orange crayon. I'd have said it was human, but the cloak morphed into long swirling tentacles. _What is this?_

As soon as I'd taken in the image, I looked back at him. He was watching me with that same vacant look, yet somehow this time, instead of appealing or annoying, it gave me the creeps. Every hair on my body stood on end as we stared at one another for an indeterminable period of time. It was almost as if I'd been in a trance until he released me from his gaze and went back to writing notes.

I couldn't help but continue to watch the new kid, worried about just what this could possibly mean. Was this drawing inspired by the cult of Cthulu? Was he somehow involved as well? And did that mean he was my enemy, or was he the ally I'd been praying for?

A slam shocked me back into attention of what was going on. "Kenny! Can you stop eye-raping the new kid for two seconds and just pay attention?!" The kids all laughed at what Mr. Garrison had said, well excluding Douchebag and myself.


	26. In The Hood

As if worried others would see, I delicately refolded the bizarre picture and placed it in my pocket. I tried to see what sorts of notes the new kid was writing, even going so far as to drop my pencil and have to stand to pick it back up, but at every angle I was thwarted effortlessly. I couldn't tell if he was doing it purposely or not.

I pulled out another piece of paper and began to scribble down a sentence. "Yesterday you told me I died. What did you mean?" I folded it and handed it over to him. He accepted it warily and then opened it up before looking at me. _Was that a raised eyebrow I detected?_

Douchebag wrote back, refolded the paper and passed it back to me. I hastily opened it. "You died again." I whipped around and glared at the new kid, my eyes searching frantically for more answers than were on the page. Of course, he was just minding his own business, chewing on the top of his red pen as he waited for Mr. Garrison to say something noteworthy.

I turned my attention back to the page. "Why do you remember?" I sent it back to him, and he answered. "It happened in front of me."

_Smart ass._ "I meant how do you remember? No one ever remembers." He took a bit to respond this time, and I was practically shaking with anticipation as I read his response.

"I don't understand."

I gritted my teeth, crumpled up the paper and threw it at him. It hit him right in the face, but he just calmly picked up the ball of paper and smoothed it out, looking for my response, and upon finding none, added another statement, crumpled it up and tossed it onto my desk.

I smoothed it out. It said, "Are you the man in the yellow hood?" _What? My hood is usually orange and__ today I'm wearing black._ _Does he mean that creepy thing he drew? Because if he does, I think I'll have to kick his ass. _

I rose a brow at him and then realized he was staring at me, seeming to eagerly await my reply. It took me a bit, but I decided how to respond. "Nope. Is that the guy in the drawing? Who is he?" I crumpled the paper and handed it to him, and he looked, then seemed confused. Or was it just me imagining things?

He responded, "I don't know." This was getting me nowhere. I whispered to him as I pulled out the creepy drawing he gave me and showed it back to him. "How do you not know? What does this mean? You're the one who drew it!"

Douchebag watched the drawing with that stupid emotionless stare of his, and of course did not respond. I wrote what I asked on the other piece of paper and hit him with it again, hard as I could. Mr. Garrison turned around just at that moment. "Kenny McKormick! I'm sorely disappointed. I expected this sort of bullying from Cartman, but not you!" Eric voiced complaint, but the teacher continued. "Have you been paying attention to a word of this lesson?"

I nodded fervently. "Of course!" He leaned on his desk. "Right, sure. Then what's the last thing I said?" My eyes darted back and forth, hoping for some sort of miracle. "Uhh, something about Sarah Jessica Parker's detrimental influence on women's fashion?" He rolled his eyes and pointed at the door. "Nice try. Go to the principal's office."

"God DAMN IT!" I yelled. Everyone turned to look at me, even the new kid. I quickly picked up my stuff, including the note and strange picture, and headed out. "Fucking Douchebag! ERGH!"


	27. Do you Do Doo?

It's a bit smaller than what I wanted to post today. I wanted to post another entire scene, but y'all will have to wait it seems. Unless of course, you're reading this more than a day after I posted it, in which case, you won't need to wait at all. Good for you then.

As for what I did instead of writing, I spent time with my niece and family instead of being cooped up like a hermit. How despicable of me. On the bright side though I have completed the new kid's back story and motivations, so now I'm not pulling them out of my ass anymore. Woo hoo! Oh, and also, not sick anymore. Bit weak, but meh.

I may well polish up this chapter considerably later, since it's 5am and I haven't been to bed yet.

* * *

I watched as Kenny and King Douchebag exchanged notes, trying to keep an eye on what they said but unable from my seat in class. It seemed Kyle was more likely to have a good viewpoint, so I caught his attention.

"Psst, hey Kyle. Kyle!" I whispered while waving a hand. He snapped out of studying ahead in the textbook and looked over at me with curiosity. "What is it Butters?"

I pointed at the exchange happening in front of us and he looked over and tilted his head as if trying to read the note Douchebag was writing. He then turned back to me and shrugged his shoulders. "Dude, I dunno," he mouthed.

Stan joined in on our conversation, turning around to face me. "I'll bet the new kid's thinking Kenny's totally nutters. Boy I'd really like to see what they're writing to one another."

Kyle looked over at Stan with a frown. "Yeah, turns out the new kid's fine after all. It was all a misunderstanding at best, maybe even delusion at worst, and we all nearly got grounded because of it. I hope Kenny sees reality for what it is now and accepts it."

I shook my head. "Fellas, how can you say that? What Kenny experiences is totally real for him, so maybe it has a chance of actually being real, and we can't just make fun of him for being crazy without givin him a chance to prove himself!"

Eric snorted. "We can too. Like how you and him had a sleepover last night. I don't need anymore proof that you two are totally gay for each other."

I was about to explain again why Kenny and I being friends shouldn't be misinterpreted as gay 'cause that undermines how important platonic friendship is, but I didn't really get the chance.

All of the sudden, Kenny got in trouble by Mr. Garrison and cussed so loud it kinda freaked me out, then stormed outta the class mad as hell.

Then the unthinkable happened. It will be talked of for centuries to come as a legend of the school.

Douchebag pulled a plastic baggie out of his backpack and threw the contents of it at Mr. Garrison, narrowly missing and splattering the chalkboard.

It was poop.

The whole class got grossed out, especially the girls, and then the new kid was also sent to the principal and we all had to use another classroom.

Boy, to actually save and throw your poo, you'd have to be pretty weird I think. And why he did that, no one knows.


	28. Rematch

Once I was sure no one could see me, I stopped stomping and held my bad knee. "Ow! Shit! God it hurts!" I grumbled as I rubbed on it soothingly, but that did no good. I rolled up my pant leg and took a look at the bandage and then rolled it back down and started heading over grudgingly towards the principal's office.

"Kenny, wait!" Came an unfamiliar voice from behind. I was in no mood, but I stopped and turned around anyway. Much to my surprise, it was the new kid who'd shouted to me, and my curiosity temporarily quelled my frustration. "What do you want?"

He caught up to me and did that stupid stare thing again, which just pissed me off more. "You can talk. What's your fucking problem?! Just say what's on your mind instead of staring at me like a stupid vagina face!" He blinked and tilted his head, but still said nothing. I could feel my jaw hurt I clenched it so hard, and my hands had turned into fists. "I swear to God if you don't start speaking, I'm gonna kick your fucking ass!"

He tilted his head the other way and blinked again. _That does it._ I screamed and lunged for him, then nailed him against a locker with a thud. I shoved him over and over again, demanding "speak! Tell me everything! Tell me what's going on!" He reached up his arms and pulled my hood over my eyes, then kicked me away from him. I steadied and lifted my arms to fix my hoodie, but he sucker punched me while I was blind and I fell to the floor. "Ow dude! That fucking hurts!"

He grabbed me by the feet and started dragging me, and I panicked, wondering if he was trying to throw me down the stairs. I tried to get up but the pain from my leg really hurt. At least I'd fixed my hood to allow me to see again. And there it was; he'd led me to the top of the stairs and was trying to throw me, but instead, I kicked him down the stairs with both my feet.

As I watched him fall down to the first floor I sat up, coddling my left knee. "Balls! Shit! Fucking hell!" He didn't get up off the floor and my heart sunk into my stomach. _Oh my God. I killed the new kid.  
_


	29. That's Some Fucked up Shit

I pushed my butt down the stairs to spare myself from having to walk down them. _He's not getting up._ "Oh Jesus" I cried, instantly remorseful, regardless of the fact it was self defense. "Douchebag! Get up!"

A non-ginger third grade hall monitor walked over to the stairwell, peering over at the kid's body and then at me as I slid toward him. "What the? What's going on here? Hey kid, are you okay?" He poked at the new kid's shoulder and he didn't respond, then looked up at me. "He's dead! Oh my God! Principal Victoria!" he cried as he ran away.

I got to the crumpled up Douchebag and began shaking his limp body, totally freaking out. "Dude, don't die! Stop being a pussy! They're just stairs! I literally just fell down stairs last night!" I carefully laid him flat and checked for signs of life by holding one hand over his mouth and feeling for a pulse with the other.

Dissatisfied, I began the CPR from gym class that Cartman swore would never ever come in handy. _Come on new kid. Live. Live! Dying sucks. Live!_

"Oh my God, you killed him Kenny!" Stan's voice nearly gave me a heart attack and interrupted my life saving, but then I went right back to it, smacking the new kid's chest. Kyle came in right behind him. "You, you bastard! You crazy bastard!" If it were any other instance, I think I'd have knocked their heads together for saying that phrase for the millionth time in one variation or another, but I was just too distraught.

As I was pulled away by one of the adults, I could hear them declaring him dead. I screamed and cried as they restrained me and began shuffling me off to the principal's office. "No! No! Nooooo!"

After we'd taken some time to calm down, Counselor Mackey and Principal Victoria both came into the office and sat across from us, watching with both depressed and disturbed faces. The balloon headed man started first. "You boys stay nice and quiet m'kay, until each kid I address finishes and then you can all have turns to talk. Now Kenneth, I want you to tell me everything that happened m'kay? I know it's real soon, but we need to know and it's real important, m'kay. Understand?"

I wiped snot on my sleeve, hiccuping from the hysterical crying. "Y-yeah, I understand." I thought on how to start explaining, but it just caused me to break down in tears again. I was hugged by Stan and I clung to him, burying my head in his shoulder. Stan looked up at Mr. Mackey. "It was an accident. He's totally messed up over it."

"M'kay Stanley, I see your point, but I need to hear everything Kenneth has to say about it first, m'kay?" Mr. Mackey handed Stan a tissue and he began kindly wiping the wetness off my face. Principal Victoria finally spoke. "Kenny, I hope you understand what a serious situation you're in. You've got to calm down and tell us everything that happened so that we can help."

Stan pat me on the back reassuringly and I gathered the pieces of my sanity back together. I spoke, but it was practically incomprehensible even by my standards. "It- it was supposed to be me who died. He was gonna shove me down the s-s-stairs, but I kicked him." The principal and school counselor looked at one another in confusion. "What did he say, boys?"

Kyle looked down at the floor and repeated what I'd said. The principal gaped. "Ohh, oh my. Kyle, Stanley, is that what you two saw?" The boys nodded morosely.

She walked back toward the office door and stood beside it. "Listen, Kenny, I know you're very upset, but we're going to have to send you to see the nice police officers waiting outside. Listen and do what they say, all right?"

Stan suddenly clung to me. "What?! No! Don't send Kenny to jail! He didn't do it on purpose!" Kyle looked up at him, shaking his head. "No dude! Kenny's already in a lot of trouble, don't make this worse for him!"

Principal Victoria and Mr. Mackey forcibly separated us. She pulled me outside. "Unfortunately, I have no choice Stanley! Please understand!" Kyle and Mr. Mackey held Stan back as we reached for one another. "Your friend Kyle's right, m'kay. Let him go."


	30. Inept Adults

I was led away and placed in the back of a cop car. A small crowd had gathered to see me go, and I held my head down in shame. _How can I ever wear the mask again? I'm a murderer. Karen, mom, Douchebag, Kyle, Stan, I'm sorry._

The ride to the police station was uncomfortably silent and it gave me time to think on what I'd done and what I'd do next. I resigned to simply confess to murder and likely spend my birthday in juvie. _No idea how dying and being reborn would work there_, I pondered darkly. Just as we were pulling in, Officer Barbrady looked in his rear view mirror at me and then jumped in surprise. "Little boy! How'd you get in my back seat?"

That guy is dumber than a pile of feces; I figured he needed reminding. "Uh, I killed someone and you were taking me to jail, remember?" Then he tapped his finger on his lip in thought. "Nope, doesn't sound familiar. Are you playing a trick on me?" I raised my hands up in exasperation. "Nuh-uh! Why the fuck would I make that shit up?! You've got to take me to jail right now before we both get in trouble." I was in really no mood.

"Oh, uh, okay. I'll believe you I guess. Thanks." The officer took me out of the car and guided me into the station. "Hey guys? I've got this little boy who says he's a murderer. Do we take him to the soft room or the hard room?"

I looked up at the grownups at the mention of the phrase 'soft room'. "Hard room! Hard room!" I insisted, but I was instead guided into the room with all the creepy ass clowns. "Shit! I'd rather have my balls literally cut off with knives than be in that room! Please!"

They sat me in there for a while, alone with the toys and those creepy ass demon clown pictures, I guess to let me settle down. Before no time at all had passed, I already wanted to go home, but I just stayed put on the couch and closed my eyes. This was the least of what I would have to deal with soon. I was going to learn about shivs and making soap on a rope to avoid being butt raped.

One of the detectives I knew from my alter ego stepped in and sat down on the couch across from me, holding a folder containing my file. He looked through it for a while and then placed it on the table and looked over at me. "Kenneth McCormick, you're Stuart's child right?" I swallowed dryly and gave a little nod. He leaned in closer. "Ken, you don't mind if I call you Ken do you?" I cleared my throat. "Go right ahead."

He continued. "Ken, you've confessed to murder. Is that right?" I confirmed. He looked through my files again and then looked at me with an understanding face. "Who did you kill? Tell me everything."

I sighed, hoping I was ready to talk about what happened without crying in the station. "The new kid in class and I were fighting in the hallway at school and he was about to kick me down the stairs, but then I kicked him down the stairs. I didn't know it would kill him. I'd just fallen down stairs yesterday and I was okay."

He rose a brow at me, incredulous. "All right. So you got in a fight with a kid at school. And he died? I'd think the school would have reported this to us. If you're lying young man you could get into a lot of real trouble."

"What?! They did report it! That's where I just came from. You guys are the ones who picked me up!" I shouted defensively. "Why am I suddenly the one who has to prove I murdered a guy? Aren't you the detectives?"

He shuffled my folder, getting irritated with me. "I just find it hard to believe that we have no record of the school telling us a kid died there. Come clean now and I'll let you off with a warning, but if you keep insisting, I can jail you for lying to law enforcement."

I stood up off the couch, completely flabbergasted. "What?! But it's the truth! I'm telling you the truth! Arrest me! I'm a murderer! I'm a fucking murderer!"

His look softened and he motioned for me to sit back down. "Okay, I can see you believe in what you're saying. I'll go call the school and talk with them. Maybe there was some sort of mix up." He walked out and I spent those few minutes alone crying into my sleeves, reliving those last few moments with Douchebag over and over again.


	31. Confession Backfired

About twenty minutes later, or at least it felt like it, some other detective in plain clothes came back and sat down across from me. "Hi Ken. My name is Trent Hoffman. We confirmed with the school."

"I told you, that's what really happened! Why would I make this up?!" I insisted.

"Yes. It's okay. I see you're telling the truth. Tell me again what happened," Mr. Hoffman said gently.

I rubbed my hands together and reexplained every little detail of the fight, my voice wavering by the end of it.

"And then what happened?" Mr. Hoffman asked, writing things down on a pad of paper.

I explained the crowd, the declaration of death, and then having to go to the principal's office and being taken away by the police. By the end of it, I was crying again, despite all attempts to tough it out. He handed me a tissue. "Uh-huh. I see. So you're absolutely certain you killed him?"

"Yes! I kicked him down the stairs! He was dead! People witnessed it! I'm a murderer!" I hid my face in the tissue, feeling so remorseful.

Mr. Hoffman nodded. "What if I told you the school insists there haven't been any deaths today?"

"What? I thought you said they confirmed what I said!" I shouted, feeling betrayed.

"I can see you seem confused about this. Are you sure no one was playing a trick on you?" He questioned.

I shook my head. "This wasn't a trick. He was declared dead-" Something came to mind just then. _What if they're forgetting? Does that mean Douchebag is an immortal too? But if he were, wouldn't I have killed him permanently? So then why would anyone forget he died?_

Mr. Hoffman watched on. "Ken. What is it?"

I resigned myself to the fact I could no longer be punished, either way. "Uh, wow, I just realized I must have been tricked. I guess you're right. Since the school says no one died, I guess I couldn't have killed anyone," I lied as best I could, but it just sounded pathetic. I was too shaken to pretend it didn't really happen.

"I see, so now you're saying you were tricked?" he asked, writing down more. "So, what if I told you the school did confirm your story?"

I jumped out of my seat. "What the fuck is your problem?! If there's anyone going around playing tricks on me, it's you!" I walked towards the toys and picked one up and proceeded to throw it against the wall repeatedly. He observed me from his seat, still taking down notes. "Ken, I think you believe everything you told me really happened. But the problem is, the school spoke to your two best friends and they said none of that happened."

_He knew these things all along. He tricked me into confirming everything and now I sound crazy._ I looked over at the toys. One of them was a corded telephone. I took it into my hands and tried to choke myself with it, but Mr. Hoffman stopped me before I could do anything. "Suicide isn't the answer Ken! I know you're scared, but don't hurt yourself! I can get you the help you need! Everything will be okay!"

"I'm not crazy! I don't need help!" I snapped, exiting the stupid soft room as fast as I could. Mr. Hoffman followed. "Stop him! He's trying to hurt himself!" A police officer scooped me up, just as I'd hoped, so then I grabbed his gun out of its holster and aimed it at my head.


	32. Adults Ruin Everything

Before I could end this nightmare and pull the trigger, the cops restrained me, taking back the weapon I'd stolen. "No! Nooo! NOOOOO!"

Before I knew it, I was being taken to Hells Pass Hospital under the pretense that I was dangerously suicidal.

I mean, yeah, I guess I was suicidal, but it wasn't actually dangerous like it would be with most people. I didn't even struggle after a while, but I was still injected with some sort of sedative that made me really, really calm. I didn't feel frightened that people would think I was crazy anymore. I was no longer feeling upset that I'd killed my friend. I didn't feel anything. I didn't even feel the drool as it dribbled down my chin. I just spaced out, only partly aware of what was going on around me until I fell asleep.

When I came to, I was lying restrained to a bed. _Maybe Douchebag's botched suicide attempt was just him trying to get out of something bad too. Maybe he wasn't just being a pussy after all._

A doctor came in and asked me a bunch of stupid questions about who I was and what happened in my life, so on and so forth. He then asked me, "so Kenny, do you wish to die?"

I rolled my eyes, but that made me want to throw up, probably because of the sedatives still in my system. "No, but I die all the time so it didn't seem like a bad option," I slipped. "Oh oops, that's supposed to be a secret," I corrected. _Damn them._ Whatever I was on was causing me to say whatever came to mind.

"You die often?" He questioned, writing things down. I tried to lie, but instead I blurted out the truth again. "Yeah, I used to die all the time but recently I've not died as often. Why am I telling you all this?" I slurred. He smiled and patted my knee. "That's probably just the drugs, but don't worry. Nothing you say will leave this room. Your secret is safe with me."

"No, it's not. You think I'm crazy since no one even remembers," I sloshed, feeling sick to my stomach. I pulled on the restraints limply, and the sensation caused me to laugh at myself until my sides hurt. Whatever I was on was really fucking me up.

"I don't think you're crazy Kenny. I believe you," the doctor reassured.

I stopped my frantic giggling to look at him. "Wha? You believe me?"

He nodded. "Yes, I do. Unlike most people, I know you are an Immortal, conceived by forbidden ancient ritual."

I forced myself to focus. "An Immortal? What do you know about Immortals?" He chuckled kindly. "I know that while I may not be able to kill you, I can put you away forever."

"What?! No! You can't do this to me! You won't get away with it!" I yelled.

The doctor leaned in close to my face and injected me with another sedative. "May the cult of the Faceless Shepherd never reach you now."

_Who's the cult of the faceless shepherd?!_ I wanted to demand, but the words came out as weak garble.

The doctor shushed, stroking hair out of my eyes before backing away from me. "Sleep now, immortal son. All hail The Dread K'tulu."


	33. Visitation

I woke to the gentle strokes of my mother's shaking hand as she sang a little hymn for me. I tried to speak, but my mouth felt like it had disconnected from my brain. All that came out was a moan.

"Shh, baby. My little baby. Kenny I brought your sister and brother to see you. They wanted to wish you feel better. Your shit father is drunk again however, so he wasn't allowed in the hospital. But he says hi." My mom seemed as though she'd been crying. I tried to sit up, but I couldn't. I was still restrained.

She picked up my sister and placed her in her lap and my brother came into my point of view. Karen seemed confused, as if she didn't quite get what was going on, but Kevin seemed all too aware of what I'd attempted. He looked both mad and very sad, which made me feel good since up until that point I wasn't sure he even cared.

Karen reached out and held my hand. "Feel better Kenny. I love you." I forced a tired smile. "Karen," I trailed off, unable to finish. At first, the drugs were kinda trippy and neat feeling, but at this point they were just getting in my way. I could only hope they'd wear off long enough for me to get my head on straight.

My brother started next. "Kenny, I'm not the best or smartest brother. I've never been there for you. I'm sorry. Don't leave us." That hurt my heart. If only I had a knife; then this moment would be gone and they would forget it. My mother pat me on the shoulder reassuringly. "Kenny, suicide isn't the answer. Please, don't kill yourself. We all love you, even your stupid useless father loves you. And I brought your little friends to help show you that."

Again, I tried to speak, but the words weren't working.

My family left the room and were replaced by Butters, Cartman, Kyle and Stan, and then Douchebag right behind them. In my confused state, it took me a little while to remember why that was impossible, but even once I did I still couldn't form a coherent sentence.

Stan looked like a pissed off wreck. "Kenny, you're a fucking turd!" Kyle covered his mouth, seeming more sad than angry. "What he means to say is, Kenny, what you're doing to yourself is really selfish and we're all worried about you." Cartman watched on, relatively quiet and unusually serious. "Yeah man. Kenny, I think you're pretty kewl, and if you killed yourself that would really suck ass."

Butters looked from side to side, seemingly uncertain as to what he should say. "Yeah, Kenny. Even if you _are_ immortal, you shouldn't go around tryin ta kill yourself." The other boys glared at him and he went silent.

Douchebag walked in front of the rest of them and looked up at me. I looked at him. "Kill me," I begged. He nodded in understanding and pulled out a gun, shooting me in the head. The last thing I heard was the collective screams of my friends, but the death was pretty painless otherwise.

I woke up the next morning on my mattress at home completely naked, bedsheets kicked to the floor. _Douchebag saved me. It worked. It's like nothing ever happened. _Sometimes, rather than wake up in the parka, I'd end up nude or in my underpants, so that wasn't too unusual. What was unusual, however, was the fact that I was not alone.

Butters slept on the end of my bed, curled up like a cat in his onesie, using his own arm as a pillow. The new kid slept on the other side of me on the bed. I quickly scooped up my sheets and covered myself with them self consciously.

"What the hell are you two doing in my room!?" I asked loudly, startling them awake.


	34. Finally Some Explanations!

Butters jumped with a cry of fear and fell off the bed, nearly squishing a rat as it scampered away. The new kid looked over at me, sat up and silently got off the bed.

"Well?" I asked, keeping the sheets over my chest. Butters looked over at Douchebag and then bit his fingernail as he pulled himself off of the floor. "Oh well ah, see Douchebag came to me for help and we went to your house but you were sleepin. So we just slept over. I dunno why, but I guess he was worried 'bout you for some reason."

I rubbed my eyes and stretched, letting out a large yawn. Again it was left up to the new kid to explain himself, so I became prepared to simply not know the answer. It didn't stop me from prying, however. I wore the sheets like a toga and ushered them outside, then got myself dressed into my parka and invited them back in.

We all sat on my bed. "Okay Douchebag, I know you can talk, so talk. He looked at Butters, who looked back at him questioningly. "You can talk? Well why didn't you say so? Mr. Garrison said you were a mute, so I just figured that's what it was."

The new kid looked from me to Butters again, so I grabbed him by the shirt. "Talk, dammit!" Butters broke us up and kept a hand on each of our shoulders. "Stop it! We're all friends here. However, Kenny is right, Douchebag. You should really start talking. It's not good to keep things bottled up inside."

The new kid shifted uncomfortably and looked down. "I can't."

"Well, why not?" Butters asked. Douchebag looked around and then seemed nervous. "It's dangerous." Butters scratched his head, confused. "Dangerous? How?" The new kid shook his head, squeezing his lips together.

I pushed Butters aside and got in the new kid's face again. "I don't care. I can't keep playing charades with you. Somebody wanted to keep me in the funny bin. Why?! You know something!"

Butters widened his eyes, staring at me gape mouthed. "What? Someone tried to keep you in the loony loo?" I winced at his terminology. "The what?"

The new kid shook his head. "How do you understand a word of what he's saying?"

The naive blond furrowed his brows in thought. "Oh ah, I dunno. After a while, you just kinda get used to it. Please tell us what you know King Douchebag."

"If you insist, I'll speak. But first, Kenny, take off your hood."

Despite my reservations, I did as he said and ruffled my dirty blond hair, then crookedly put on the baseball cap that was hanging on a nail on the wall. "There. I took off my hood; you fulfill your end and tell me what you know."

"The other day, on my way home a group of people in robes stopped me. The leader said some weird mumbo-jumbo at me and then they left." Butters and I both stared, entranced by the quiet kid's voice. I shook my head. "Guys in robes? Cultists? Do you remember what they said?"

"Uh, Still breeze, silent shouting. Faceless Shepherd be your guide. Um, blah blah. Something something. Gibberish. I don't remember. It made no sense," the new kid explained.

"Faceless Shepherd. Kinda like this picture right?" I pulled out the drawing he'd made for me and spread it on the bed. Butters looked it over curiously.

The new kid nodded. "That night I was kidnapped by guys in robes and this picture was on their wall. They did some crazy ritual in a weird language and stabbed me in the stomach with a knife. Then I woke up in my bed like nothing happened."

"Whoa," Butters uttered. "So you're immortal like Kenny? You're both immortal? This is totally crazy!"

I shook my head. "Someone or something apparently wants us Immortals out of the way. Before they figure out a permanent solution, we'd better find out who they are and strike back."


	35. More Exposition! Hurray!

Hello everyone! It's Thursday again, meaning I'm going to see my niece. So yeah, if this appears a bit less finished than my usual stuff, that would be why. I'll come back to it and double check it for sure, but I wanted to make sure those who are following the story daily have something to read instead of nothing. Since it's so short, I'm going to try and update this twice today, but the second update will come in the really late hours of Eastern Time. Um, if you're reading this long after I've posted, good for you. You don't have to wait at all. Let me know what you think of the story thus far!

* * *

Butters pulled at his footy pyjamas nervously. "I don't get it. Why'd these people in robes talk to you, then kidnap and murder you?"

The new kid shook his head. "I don't think it was the same people," he explained, rubbing his elbow.

That made me remember something. "Wait. When I was in the mental ward, the cultist doctor said 'may the cult of the Faceless Shepherd never find you now'. And he was hailing Cthulhu."

Douchebag shook his head. "Who is Cthulhu?"

I sighed, thinking back on my previous encounters with the Old One. "He's a fucking gigantic octopus gargoyle thing with wings, and he likes to destroy things. Also, he likes Eric Cartman. I've run into him before. He sent my friends and I to a dark oblivion because Cartman asked him to, that asshole."

That seemed to satisfy the new kid, so I continued my original train of thought. "So I'm pretty sure there must be two different cults. The doctor was a part of the cult of Cthulhu and that other group must've been the cult of the Faceless Shepherd. And considering everything, it sounds like these two groups don't like each other at all."

Butters winced. "You mean there're two wacky cult groups? Oh Jesus."

I looked at the drawing I'd laid flat on the bed. "Is this man in the yellow hood the 'Faceless Shepherd'? I mean, he is faceless. If he is, this must be an Old One, just like Cthulhu. We should look online and see what we can find."

A knock at my door interrupted our conversation. I looked up as Karen made her way inside my room. "Kenny, there are these weird guys outside. I'm scared."

All three of us looked at one another and then peered outside of my bedroom window, only to see the familiar homeless guy sleeping on the broken couch my dad dumped. I rushed into the living room, taking off the baseball cap and replacing my hood as I peered outside of our front windows.

There they were, a whole group of old guys dressed in yellow hoods, holding candles and praying in front of my house.

"Dude, what the fuck?" I exclaimed in confusion.


	36. Cultish Confrontations

Sorry I couldn't post yesterday. So much going on in my life right now. However, I did manage to finish one of my Underbelly of a Book series pictures and post it to dA. I do hope this interesting turn makes up for the wait. Again, if you haven't reviewed yet, your opinion means a lot to me, so please take the time to let me know what you think.

* * *

"So, these guys look familiar at all to you, Douchebag?" I asked. He nodded, watching them intently.

"I'll take care of this, buddies," Butters proclaimed selflessly. I grabbed his shoulder. "No, wait!" He patted my hand with a smile and then walked right out of my front door, still in his jammies. He tried to call out over the chanting, and it took a couple of progressively louder attempts. "Excuse me? Uh, could I get your attention please? Excuse me! HEY!"

The strange group of yellow robed men stopped and looked right at him, and he continued. "Who are you, and what are you doing on this private property uninvited?" I rolled my eyes at 'private property', as if my dad paid for this land. But it's not like they knew that, so I hoped it would work anyway.

One of the group members began to explain. "We've come to deliver a warning. The Blind Prophet will explain." The eldest of the group stepped closer. He had a really long beard and literally no eyes. I don't think he had a tongue either. He was pretty gross looking, and he just spoke in weird ass mumbles. "Mmmuuh huuuh bluh ppphhh uh."

Butters looked back at me and I looked at the new kid, who looked at me and then at Butters and then at the weird ass cultists. I sighed and stepped forward a bit, Karen clinging to my arm. "Go away. You're scaring my little sister."

Most of the group made confused faces. The same guy who spoke up before did so again. "I'm afraid we haven't much time. It seems you and Dovahkin are both in great danger."

Just then, one of the yellow robed people came in and stabbed the blind guy from behind, who screamed in horrendous pain. Butters put his hands over his mouth. "Jesus Christ!" I covered my sister's eyes. "Go to mom and dad's room and fetch the gun." She nodded and hurried off.

The traitorous murderer ripped off his robe to reveal a black one underneath. "All hail the Dread Lord Cthulhu!" he declared before being overcome and restrained by the men in yellow. He crunched on something in his mouth. One of the men in yellow tried to force him to spit it out, but he started convulsing and foaming at the mouth and then died.

I watched on in shock. "Sick dude!" Butters freaked out. "Shit! Oh God, oh Jesus, oh Mother Mary, Mother of God, oh Jesus! They're dead!"

Karen handed me the gun, a nice big shot gun, and I pointed it at the men in yellow robes. "Get off my property! NOW!"

One of the cultists stood up and took one step toward me and I aimed it at him. He put up his arms in surrender. "Don't you understand? You boys are in danger! The cult of Cthulhu won't stop until they've gotten rid of both of you!"

I rose a brow, still keeping aim. "Why? Aren't they the ones who made me?"

"That's the thing! The ritual isn't exactly foolproof, and they've discovered you aren't one of Cthulhu's children, like they intended," the cultist explained.

I lowered the shotgun, feeling completely overwhelmed by what he'd said. "One of Cthulhu's... children? I was supposed to be a child of Cthulhu's?"

Another man in yellow interjected. "Yes, but you're not. And that's put you in grave danger. And you, Dovahkin, they have been after you for quite some time."

I looked over at Douchebag, who met my eyes momentarily before looking back over at the yellow robed guys, then I looked at them too. "What am I?"


	37. Permadeath?

So, I had this elaborate setup going on in this chapter originally, but it felt rushed and a little forced. Honestly, I wanted the other boys to come in before a big ol' plot happened anyway. Ummm, yup. So here it is!

* * *

The cultist gave me a desperately sad face. "We don't know. The Blind Prophet was just about to tell you when he was killed! And now we have no idea what else we were supposed to say!"

I took a deep breath, trying to remain calm, but it didn't work. "What?!"

Another cultist shrugged. "That's the way the cookie crumbles I guess. But yeah, you'd both better watch out for the Cult of Cthulhu. They all want you dead. Like, permanently dead." The yellow robed men covered the dead bodies and hoisted them on their shoulders, then put them both in the trunk of a car parked near the train tracks, then drove off.

I threw out my arms emphatically, dropping the shot gun on the ground. "WHAT THE FUCK!?"

Douchebag seemed a little bit perturbed, but said nothing. Butters led us both back inside and closed the front door, then sat us both down on well, what passes for the living room couch. "Okay, so the Cult of Cthulhu wants you dead. Uh, should we call the police?"

I shook my head. "Like the police are going to help us. They've killed me more times than they've saved me." Karen popped her head up from behind the couch. "What's going on? What's a cult?"

I startled and turned around to face her. "Karen! Listen, I love you, but I can't involve you in this. Just know I'm gonna be okay." She seemed saddened. "I want to help, Kenny! I'm not a defenseless little girl!" I wanted to say, "yes you are", but that would have merely pissed her off, so I changed my response. "That means a lot to me. But if anything were to happen to you, I'd never forgive myself, Karen. The best way you can help me is by packing your things and staying with a friend for a few days. Can you do that for me?"

Tears threatened to escape her eyes, and she wiped at her face. "But, you're in trouble. I want to save you too." I raised my brow. "Save me too?" Her eyes widened. "Erm, I mean, okay fine. I'll go stay at a friend's house." I looked at her suspiciously, but she just ran off to her room.

Butters smiled at me. "Wow, you and your sister are like best friends. I wish I had a sister. I think she'd be called Marjorine, and she'd have fun dance parties."

I punched him in the arm. "Quit being such a fuckin fag dude." He rubbed at his arm as if it hurt. "Sorry. Anyway, so you don't think we should call the police? What about our parents? Though my mom and dad they, well they'd probably just end up groundin me for gettin involved with a cult they would." I cleared my throat. "My mom and dad would believe me, but I don't know if they'd be able to help."

"Well, what about Stan and Kyle? They could help us," Butters suggested. I forced a sigh. "No way dude! First off, they wouldn't believe me. Second, it's bad enough you're involved in this. This is Douchebag's and my fight. No one else's."

"My, well, ain't that a bit lonely?" he asked. I rolled my eyes. "It's twice as crowded as usual already, actually," I replied while looking over at the new kid. Butters hummed in thought. "Can't we at least call them and tell them what's going on? I kinda already texted them what was happening when I thought we were gonna die."

I smacked my face with my hand. "Okay, fine then," I conceded through grit teeth.


	38. Friends Stick Together

How're you doing guys?

I hang my head in shame for having gotten stuck on the plot. I finished the first draft of my novel, finally, and for a couple days now just couldn't bring myself to write, like as if I'd deserved a break or something. Plus, I finally got my hands on Illustrator and Photoshop again after a couple years of not having either, and I've been drawing like a mo-fo. You can get links to my other endeavors on my FanFiction profile. Anyway, so here's a little something now. Still not sure what I'm doing for the climax or finale of this story. If you'd like to suggest any ideas or what you expect, PM me. If I use your idea, I'll credit you.

* * *

"So, all of this being immortal stuff is real?" Kyle asked worriedly. Stan of course was still processing the whole situation. "I can't believe it. I mean, how is this even possible?"

I answered the best way I could, with a shrug and a shake of my head. "I dunno."

Kyle pointed a gloved finger at the new kid. "And he's immortal too, just like you. And that's all true."

Butters nodded his head so hard I was surprised he didn't get whiplash.

Kyle and Stan looked at one another, and Stan shook his head with a sigh. "And the cult of Cthulhu is back, but this time they wanna kill you both permanently because you're not the particular abominations they wanted?"

I looked off to the side in thought. "I guess so." I really thought them realizing the truth after all this time would feel good, but it just felt really awkward, like as if I'd peed myself in front of them or something. I'd dreamed so many times of them supporting me and being by my side through my lonely days, of having a companion who suffered similarly to myself so I wasn't such a freak, but it just wasn't as great as I'd hyped it up to be.

Cartman (no, I don't even know why he was there) laughed in condescending disbelief. "Of all the people God wanted to keep alive no matter what, He chose YOU and Douchebag. Is that what you're saying?"

I rose a tired eyebrow. "No. God has nothing to do with this, fatboy."

He lifted his hefty arms in the air angrily. "Right, and I'm a horse's anus. Because I fucking met Cthulhu, and he didn't make ME immortal even though we were best friends!"

I bit my lip, starting to feel upset. "That's because you're human! Humans can't be immortal!" I spat before curling up on the couch, absolutely distraught.

Cartman looked like he was swallowing a bitter pill. "So you're telling us that you're not human. You and Douchebag are what, gods? Old Ones? Fucking star dust fairies?! What?!"

I curled up tighter and pulled the strings of my hood tight until my face was nearly hidden, feeling uncharacteristically self conscious. "I _don't_ know."

Stan pushed the fucktard away from me gently. "That's enough Cartman. Dude Kenny, no matter who or what you are, you're still my friend. We'll get through this somehow, okay?" Kyle placed a hand on my shoulder. "Yeah. We won't let that cult take you away from us." Butters placed a hand on my other shoulder. "Yeah, we're here for you buddy. We're your friends no matter what."

I looked up at my two best friends and my new friends Butters and Douchebag, who were all smiling reassuringly. I smiled back and opened my hood back up, leaping off the couch. "Thanks guys."

Kyle picked up my backpack. "Now come on guys. I don't think it's safe to stay here anymore. Let's go to my place."


	39. Suicide Bombing?

Still no precise ideas, but I can keep going. Just hang tight, since it might feel a bit meandering. Uhhh, plus, I'm a bit tipsy as I write this too, so uh, that ought to be interesting.

Personal Stuff: So I've finally completed my 2 year anniversary present. I really think she's gonna love it. It's a digital painting, and I can tell you guys that since she knows that much already. I can't wait to say I've been with her for 2 years! I know that sounds really mushy and I apologize. Not normally the mushy type.

* * *

We all went straight to Kyle's house, myself and the new kid disguised as girls, me because I still had the nail polish anyway and him because well, frankly I think he likes it or something. The two of us got quite a look from Kyle's mom as we all fled to Kyle's room upstairs.

"Okay, so what are we gonna do? We can't just let them kill you guys permanently. What if you died and we forgot you even existed?!" Kyle cried. Always the optimist, this guy.

Stan's mouth gaped in realization. "Is that possible? Would we just forget you ever even existed?"

The new kid grimaced at the thought, as did I. "I hope not," I replied.

Cartman let out a nonchalant flip of his hand. "Whatever. If you guys forgot they existed, it's not like it'd be painful or anything. Don't get me wrong. It'd suck for them and all, but you guys shouldn't even be worrying about it. What's truly important is that we focus on the task at hand, destroying some mother fucking cult members."

Kyle slumped his shoulders. "Yeah, you're right. We've got to try and get rid of them somehow. But it's not like we can just kill them all!"

Cartman chuckled evilly. "Sure we can. Kenny can strap a bomb to his chest and blow up their headquarters like those suicide bombers do. No one would remember he caused the explosion and he'd come back to life like nothing even happened."

I raised an eyebrow. "I don't wanna blow up!"

"You've gotta blow up, _Kenny_! How else are we supposed to kill the cult members other than a suicide bombing?" fatass whined.

"Why me? Why not the new kid?!" I demanded, annoyed.

"Because, I hate you more than I hate the new kid! Though I guess both of you could suicide bomb them," Cartman considered. The new kid just stared at him blankly, which caused him to shove the air in front of him. "Fine! Whatever! At least I'm coming up with ideas!"

Stan licked his lip. "Well, I mean, it could definitely work. Maybe keep it as a back up plan in case we can't come up with something better."

I could hardly believe what I was hearing. "What the fuck!? I don't wanna get blown up! I come back, but it still fucking hurts, you guys!"

He nodded. "Okay okay, I get it. It hurts. But still, it's better than dying forever, so let's keep it as a possibility. I really don't wanna be responsible for a bunch of deaths. They may be evil cult members, but we're talking about human beings, some of whom we may even know."


End file.
